


One Shots

by CaptainPeggyCarter21



Series: Steve Rogers Gets a Life [1]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Awesome Peggy Carter, Babysitter James "Bucky" Barnes, Divorce, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Feel-good, Flashbacks, Happy, Hurt Peggy Carter, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hysterectomy, Marriage, Mother Hen Steve Rogers, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Nightmares, One Big Happy Family, Original Character(s), POV Peggy Carter, POV Steve Rogers, Parent Peggy Carter, Parent Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter Feels, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pregnancy, Reunions, Soft Peggy Carter, Steggy - Freeform, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Surgery, Uncle Bucky Barnes, Uncle-Niece Relationship, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2020-10-04 05:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20466047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainPeggyCarter21/pseuds/CaptainPeggyCarter21
Summary: Post-Endgame. This universe covers Steve's time in the past.All my one shots for this universe. They'll mostly be from Sam's childhood or Steggy before Sam. There's happy, sad, angsty, a little bit of everything. Read chapter notes if you're looking for something in particular.





	1. ...And a Dance

**Author's Note:**

> My understanding of time travel in the MCU is that any significant change in the timeline creages a "branch," or a new timeline. Nothing Steve does in his new timeline changes the existing MCU timeline, so he's not concerned about altering history or affecting the past.  
I'm keeping these in chronological order as I go, so the most recent chapter may not be the last chapter. I'll try to update this section every time I add a new story.
> 
> Most recent addition: Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night and day after Steve returns to 1945

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad in the beginning. Clearly full of Steggy. Howling Commandos show up, yay! What else...most of it is happy/ light-hearted.  
Enjoy!

_“Peggy, this is my choice.” Click._

_Howard glances at Peggy, finger resting on the pause button. “He didn’t ever give you coordinates?”_

_“Actually, Howard, he did. I just fancied a game of hide and seek.” Peggy glares at Howard across the table. “Keep rolling.”_

_“Peg,” Howard’s voice is soft. “I’ve listened to this recording a hundred times. There’s nothing there. No background noise, no autopilot warnings, no clues. Nothing.”_

_“You’re not a well-seasoned analyst trained to find intelligence in the most unlikely of places.” Peggy’s voice is level, but curt. “Play it.”_

_“We could both use some fresh air." Howard sighs, “Let’s go above deck. You can help me look.”_

_“Anyone can spot a plane wreck. I need to stay here.” Her eyes turn glassy._

_“I’ve been out here a while. Take it from me.” Howard lays his hand over hers. “You can’t function like this. Take a break with me.”_

_She rips her hand away with a growl, “Play. It. Now.”_

_Howard shakes his head. “I’m going to keep looking. I really wish you’d join me.”_

_He turns and climbs the stairs to the main deck. When he’s out of sight, Peggy presses the play button._

_“Peggy,”_

_“I’m here.”_

_“I’m going to need a raincheck on that dance.”_

_“Alright. A week next Saturday at the Stork Club.”_

_“You got it.”_

_“Eight o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late. Understood?”_

Peggy swallows the last of her scotch and slams the glass down on the bar, signaling the bartender for another. She feels ridiculous, sitting there in her red dress. The whole thing is absurd, waiting for the man she just spent two weeks searching through ice for. Unsuccessfully.

And yet, here she is. An hour early. With pristine curls. Leaving red lipstick stains on a fresh glass. Entirely hopeless. Moments from tears.

A young soldier with a devilish grin takes the seat beside her. “What’s a lovely dame like yourself doing all alone in a joint like this?”

“Not looking for you.” She snarls.

He chuckles, “Come on, doll. No need to play hard to get, I’m already interested.”

She downs her drink in one gulp, not allowing herself to wince at the burn. “The only thing I came here for is a decent drink.” Her eyes dart to the beer bottle in his hand, and her tone turns patronizing. “So, run along, then.”

“Alright, kitten,” he gives her a wink, “this drink’s on me. How about we talk again after.”

She rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “I am more than capable of buying my own drinks. Now, leave.” Tired of the games, she locks eyes with him. “Get up. Walk away. Before I embarrass you.”

He snatches his beer off the counter and slides off the stool with a comment under his breath. She throws a two-finger salute at his back.

“Never thought I’d miss the bloody war.” She mutters to herself, taking a sip from her new glass. “At least those twats knew better.”

She glances at the clock and drops her forehead to the countertop. Seven fifteen. She could leave right now. She should. But she knows she won’t because despite losing everything to the war, despite the pit of despair in her stomach, there's still something. A tiny seed of hope, a dream more than anything, one she dares not allow to take root. She knows the moment it does, what remains of her life will come crashing down around her.

Or maybe it’s simply because her quarters are cold and dark. Lonely. The small room has too many memories and not enough future. She kept his duffle bag after the last mission. It wasn’t much, just a few shirts, a spare uniform, and his sleeping bag. His scent had faded quickly, barely noticeable now. When she returned from the search and rescue mission, she buried her face in his undershirt just to smell him one more time. Though she’d never admit that to Howard or anyone else.

She chokes down a sob with another sip. She holds the warm liquid in her mouth, letting the taste ground her. She takes another drink, relishing the burn on her tongue and down her throat. This is a pain she can handle.

As she lifts the glass for a third sip, Howard pushes through the crowd. “Someone sitting here?”

Peggy turns to him unamused. “Oh, sod off.”

He takes the seat and orders a scotch. “You know me better than that.”

Not one to sit alone, crying into her drink, Peggy smiles at the bartender. “Make this one a double. On Mr. Stark.”

Howard smirks at her. “Finally going to take me up on those drinks?”

She finishes her drink with a smile. “You can’t keep up with me.”

“Tonight, I’d have to disagree.”

Peggy scoffs, shaking her curls across her shoulders.

“You’re not the only one who misses him, Peg.” He frowns into his drink. “I was his friend. I was part of every mission he was on. I was supposed to find him.”

Her face softens. “You're right. I just-”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“He spent two years running their missions. Playing their games. And they couldn't even spare him two weeks.” She struggles to contain a sob.

Howard takes a long drink before rubbing her shoulder. “When the war's over, we'll look again. As long as you want.”

They finish their drinks in silence. For once, she’s grateful for his presence. She tells herself it’s because he intimidates the young bucks, but she knows she doesn’t want to be alone.

“Another round?” Howard glances at her from under his brow.

Peggy nods. “One more.”

“Only one? Agent Carter, you’re losing your edge.”

“I’m debriefing the Colonel first thing.”

“So, the whole bottle then?” Howard lets out a sad laugh and waves to the bartender.

“There’s not enough in the world to get me through that report.” Still, she takes the bottle and fills her glass nearly to the brim.

“You know, you’re a pretty miserable drunk.” He takes the bottle from her.

She nearly snorts. Steve would have heartily disagreed. “You’re not exactly jolly either. It’s refreshing, actually.”

Again, they fall into a comfortable silence. Neither acknowledging their utter failure. She couldn’t save Steve, and Howard couldn’t find him. The two people closest to him had let him down so completely.

“It was his choice.” Peggy empties the bottle into her glass with a deep breath.

Howard nods silently, laying cash on the bar. “Let me give you a ride back to base.”

She shakes her head. “I’m going to stay just a bit longer.”

Howard glances at the clock. Seven forty-five. “Peg, this can’t be healthy.”

“Tomorrow, before I’ve even had a drop of tea, I tell Colonel Phillips, the Commandos, Senator Brandt, and half of Army Research that Captain Steven Grant Rogers is officially dead. Missing in action with no hope of recovery. Tomorrow by lunch, Dugan will bring me his personal belongings to sort through for anything of intelligence value. Tomorrow evening, I will read his condolence letter before mailing it to Rebecca Barnes, because she's the closest family he had left.” She turns away from his knit eyebrows and puffy eyes. “So, just give me tonight.”

“Yeah. Alright.” Howard’s voice is tight as he walks away.

She turns her attention to her drink. She swirls the glass, watching the brown liquid move smoothly with every twist of her wrist. Absorbed in her own thoughts and memories, she loses track of time. Somewhere between ten and thirty minutes must have passed when the room goes quiet and someone clears their throat behind her.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Some big shot officer is going to try his luck. “Just don't. Not tonight. I am not in the mood.” She picks her glass up, ignoring the hand on her shoulder. “I came here for a drink. I don’t need an escort to the barracks or another round on you. I don’t care for a chat, and I certainly don’t want to dance.” She takes a breath to continue.

“And to think, I came all this way.”

She drops her glass. It shatters on the edge of the counter, spraying shards across the bar and into her dress. The pieces clink onto the ground as she stands up and whirls around.

Disbelief, joy, relief, and comfort flood through her when she sees Steve’s face.

She throws a fist into his jaw. The whole bar gasps.

Steve rubs his jaw. “Not quite what-”

“How long have you been back?” Peggy demands, face flushed. “Couldn’t phone? Or radio? Couldn’t find a single way to tell me you were alive? For what? So you could have this bloody moment?”

“Well,” he grins at her, “you know how I like to be dramatic.”

“Christ, Rogers, I swear.” She shakes her head leaning into him. “You’re an arse.”

He embraces her, nuzzling into her hair. “You owe me a dance.”

“You owe me a double shot of scotch.” She buries her face in his chest before anyone can catch a glimpse of the tears streaming down it. “Top shelf.”

Steve pulls her away, wiping her cheeks. He leads her to the dance floor and asks the band to play something slow. He leans down to kiss her forehead.

“I thought I lost you.” Her voice is unsteady.

He begins swaying to the music, his arms wrapped around her waist. “I could never leave my best girl.” His eyes glisten, tears threatening to spill.

She smiles up at him. “Steve, I don’t understand. We looked-”

He shushes her gently. “I’ll explain everything later, I promise. Right now, just dance with me.”

She lays her head against his chest and wraps her arms around him. “I thought you didn’t know how to dance.”

“We'll talk later.” He holds her snug against his body until the song ends.

When she looks up at him again, tears flow freely down her cheeks, but a smile covers her face. He leans down, pressing his lips to hers. She stands on her tiptoes, fingers curled around his lapels, deepening the kiss.

She pulls away, breathless. “Walk me to my quarters?”

“I thought you weren’t in the mood.”

She quirks an eyebrow up at him. “If you don’t remember the way, Captain, I can walk myself.”

“Sweetheart, that’s not a path I’d forget in a million years.” His eyes sparkle at the comment. “But, I made other arrangements for tonight.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

He holds out his arm, and she takes his elbow. He leads her out of the Stork Club and waves down a cab. He opens the door and wraps an arm around her after he settles in. She curls into his side, breathing in his scent, different somehow.

“Steve?”

He hums into her hair.

“If you ever crash another plane, you’d better crash it well. Because if I find you, you’re death will be neither quick nor painless.”

He grins, “I would expect nothing less.”

When they arrive at the high-rise, Steve takes out his wallet and groans. “You got to be shitting me.” Credit cards.

Peggy raises her eyebrows. “Language, Captain.”

He hangs his head with a chuckle and turns to Peggy, cheeks burning pink. “This isn’t going to make much sense to you, but,” he licks his lips, “I don’t have any money. Can you…”

Peggy opens her purse, drawing her eyebrows together. She takes out a handful of change and passes it to Steve. “You owe me.”

Steve pays the driver and turns around, smirking at Peggy. “I intend to pay that bill in full very shortly.”

“Don’t take too long. I charge interest.” Her sultry demeanor falls when Steve wraps his arms under her backside and lifts her into the air. “Steve!” She giggles leaning against his chest.

He kisses along her collar bone, carrying her to the side of the building before setting her down. He presses her back against the wall and nips at her neck.

“Steve.”

He smiles into her skin at the sound of her whine. After he kisses her neck once more, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise, he pulls back and looks at her.

“Steve, we’re not in the field anymore. We’re not undercover. I want a bed. Not the woods or some back alley or an elevator. A bed. With blankets. Maybe a bath.”

Steve smiles, “Anything you want.” He takes her hand and leads her inside to the elevator. He presses the button for the penthouse apartment, appreciating her quiet gasp.

Peggy gapes at the entryway. She drops Steve’s hand to explore the different rooms. When she finds the bedroom, she throws her bag into the corner and falls back into the bed.

“Steve, this is magnificent.” She rolls over, burying her face in pillows. “Everything is so soft.”

Steve stands in the doorway. “You like it?”

She nods, grinning. “How did you-”

“A favor from an old friend.”

She slides off the bed and turns her back to him, wiggling her hips. “I could use some help with the zipper.”

He’s behind her in seconds, tugging the zipper down to the dimples in her back. He watches her slide the sleeves off her shoulder and leans in to kiss her neck. “Let’s talk interest.”

She smirks over her shoulder. “I prefer to keep rates low.”

He wraps his hands around her waist and turns her to face him. He lifts her by the hips and sets her down on the bed. He slides her shoes off one at time, tracing his fingers up her ankles.

She giggles, “Not that low, Captain.”

He kisses the inside of her ankle and gazes up at her with dark eyes. “Tell me when to stop.” He kisses her other ankle and brushes his lips a few inches up her calf before pressing his lips deep into her skin.

Peggy moans. “You’re getting warmer.”

He kisses the same spot on her opposite leg and repeats the process until she falls back, squirming under his touch. He leans forward, hovering over her, and presses his lips to hers.

“You have no idea how much I missed you.” She kisses him again, tugging at his hair.

“I think I do,” he chuckles, breathing in her perfume. “I missed you too.” Exactly what he remembered.

Peggy wakes up alone in the middle of the bed and sits up to see the sun coming through the curtains in the bedroom.

“Damn.” She falls back onto the bed. “No sense in hurrying now.” Philips has certainly either sent out a search party or fired her already.

A chill runs up her spine and she pulls the blankets around herself. She sits back up, carefully hugging the sheets to her body, and looks around the unfamiliar room. “Damn.” She must have gotten so sloshed she actually went home with one of those officers and convinced herself it was Steve. Howard was right; she’s losing her edge.

When the boys find out she woke up in a stranger’s bed, she will never hear the end of it. She chuckles to herself. She can already hear all her own jokes being tossed in her face. Then again, they probably won’t, not today.

She hears the shower turn off and looks for her clothes. It doesn’t matter what happened last night, last night was- Her chest tightens. She chokes back the drunken memories and pulls her garter belt over her hips. Last night is over, and she’s leaving with what’s left of her dignity. And preferably before her mystery suitor returns to the bedroom. She tugs her dress over her head and moves to the mirror.

“Oh, bloody hell.” Her makeup is a mess, eyeliner smudged down her cheeks and lipstick well outside the bounds of her lips. Her hair hasn’t looked so unruly since she spent two and a half weeks sharing a single bathroom with the Commandos in that bombed out hangar. She’ll just wash her face in the kitchen and fix herself up back in the barracks.

With a quick nod to herself, she rolls one of her stockings up. She lifts her dress and takes the clips dangling from the garter belt. The bathroom door creaks open, allowing steam to creep in. Peggy huffs, squinting into the light in the doorway.

“Crikey O’Reilly.”

“Peg, you’ve seen me-” Peggy darts into his arms and pulls his head down for a kiss. “I should go missing more often.” He presses gently against her hips, pushing her back.

“You most certainly should not.” She tosses her curls, or whatever remains of them, side to side. “You weren’t there. I thought it was a dream.”

Steve raises an eyebrow as she clips her stocking, “I’m barely gone two weeks and you go home with somebody new?”

She swats his shoulder. “I’m just happy you’re real.”

“Do you need reassurance?” Steve leans in, wrapping his arms behind her shoulders. He nuzzles up her neck and whispers in her ear, “Because I have a few ideas.”

She smiles, “I have to meet with Colonel Phillips.”

“It’s covered.” Steve sits on the bed and pulls her against his chest. “Howard informed Philips this morning that you were up all night interviewing me for potential intelligence I may have discovered during the mission."

“Still. I didn’t pin up my hair last night. It’ll take me hours to fix it.” Her eyes glint. “Maybe tonight.”

Steve hangs his head. “Alright. I’ll get dressed and call for a cab.” He begins gathering his clothes and looks back up at Peggy sheepishly. “Can you…”

Peggy smiles, “Yes, Steve, I think I can swing another taxi.”

Steve rubs a hand down his face. “Peg, I’m so sorry. I wanted this to be perfect. I can’t believe-”

“Steve,” she quiets him with a kiss, “I’m just glad you’re home.”

“Steve, I _really_ have to go to work now.” She leans back against the door, turning the handle.

“But I missed you.” He tugs at her wrist.

She pulls away stumbling backward out of the cleaning closet. “I missed you too.”

She turns around, nearly knocking Howard over. They both take a step back. She tucks a loose hair behind her ear, glancing at Philips, and wipes at her lipstick. She gives her coat a sharp tug and clears her throat.

“Captain.” She nods to Steve and walks down the hall in the direction the men had come from.

She walks into the SSR office, flips on the coffee maker, and sits at her desk. Taking a deep breath, she smiles to herself looking through files that accrued in her absence. She’s barely cracked open the first file when laughter bubbles up in her chest. She’s a grown woman and federal agent; she has no business messing around in broom cupboards. And yet- She allows a quiet chuckle to herself, biting her fingernail.

“What’s got you all giggly?”

“Oh, Wilson.” Peggy jumps. “Nothing really. Just remembered a joke my mum used to tell me. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Because I’m a dumb American?” Wilson raises an eyebrow, opening his desk drawer.

“I was just going to say American.” Peggy laughs, pulling a teabag from her drawer and dropping it in her mug. “What are you doing here? I assumed the entire agency would be fielding senators and scientists all day.”

“Smoke break.” He places a cigarette between his lips and holds the pack out.

She shakes her head, carrying her mug to the coffee maker. “I’ve catching up to do.”

“Great.” He flicks his lighter. “The Howling Commandos have been ringing our phones off the hook since Stark made the announcement this morning.”

“I can handle the boys.” She chuckles lifting the coffee pot. “Oh, bloody- who’s responsible for this?” She holds up the pot, deep brown liquid sloshing over the top. “This is my coffee machine. Mine. You gentlemen have three for whatever monstrosity you want to run through them. Mine is strictly for hot water so I can have a few cups of this sad, American excuse for tea. I ask for one thing in this office.” She slams the pot onto the table. “One bloody thing, and you tossers can’t even manage that.” She snatches the pack of cigarettes and lighter from Wilson’s desk. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Just dump it out and brew another pot.” He blows out a puff of smoke. “I thought MI-5 sent us their brightest.”

She rolls her eyes and leans on the desk next to him. “It’s been contaminated.”

Wilson holds the cigarette between his teeth, and turns his back to Peggy. When he turns back, he gives her a small origami rose. “I’m sorry for you loss.”

She snickers taking it from his hand. “You’d better keep that little talent a secret.”

“Carter,” Philips walks into the room, “I understand you may need a smoke after the late night you had, but we need you in the conference room.”

Peggy stands up, pulling the unlit cigarette from her lips and thanks Wilson, leaving it on her desk. She takes three large steps to catch up with Philips. “Need me to intimidate a few of the scientists from downstairs, sir?”

“Congressmen, actually,” Philips chuckles. “They want to speak with you and Stark directly.”

“Captain Rogers?”

“Has been medically cleared for duty and has already found a seat between Senators Brandt and Pierce.”

Peggy pull her eyebrows together. “Was the medical exam really necessary?”

Philips rolls his eyes, “You're not there only one who wants to get their hands on him, Carter.”

“That’s quite enough, Colonel.” She opens the door to the conference room. “We have guests.”

Peggy and Philips take seats around the table, and Philips opens the meeting.

“Before we begin, as head of the Senate Security Committee, I would be remiss if I didn’t ask. Has Captain Rogers been thoroughly debriefed?” Senator Pierce glances at Philips.

“Certainly.” Howard smirks, “And probably more than once.”

Steve’s cheeks turn a deep pink and he shifts in his chair. Peggy glares at Howard.

Philips clears his throat. “Captain Rogers has been assisting Agent Carter in decoding key pieces of intel from the mission.” The smallest smirk plays on his lips. “I understand he's been working quite diligently, no stone unturned. Right, Carter?”

Peggy watches Steve sink into his chair. She smiles at Philips. “Yes, sir. I'm rather impressed with his results. He’s been very thorough.”

“So, Agent Carter, would you say you're satisfied?” Howard chuckles. “Captain Rogers is cleared for this meeting?”

By now, Steve's whole face is red, and it's quickly spreading down his neck. Thankfully, the senators are so concerned with each other, no one seems to notice.

Peggy gives Howard a curt nod. “Yes, and I think it's time to stop discussing this, in favor of a more substantial topic.”

Howard concedes, and Steve’s face slowly returns to a less alarming color. The rest of the meeting goes without incident. Although, Senator Pierce notices the flush in Steve’s cheeks and asks to have the air turned down. When they leave the conference room, Peggy ushers Steve across the hall into a small office.

“I thought you had work to do.” Steve raises an eyebrow, running a hand up the curve of Peggy’s waist and under the edge of her jacket.

“Should we give you a minute?” Dugan’s voice comes from the back corner, followed by several chuckles.

“Boys,” Peggy smirks, “I told you I’d make time for you."

Steve breaks into a grin as the Commandos circle him, making jokes and slapping his shoulders. “A minute won’t do, gentlemen.”

“It did when you took Carter to that shindig in Lucerne.” Morita looks around the group for acknowledgement.

“We were undercover,” Steve glares.

Gabe smirks, “Yeah, we heard.”

Steve whirls around, “It was an act.”

“We were all on comms that night, Cap. Give it up.” Dugan squeezes his shoulder.

“Peg, some help here?” Steve tosses her a pleading look.

She leans against the wall, smiling. “You got yourself into it, Rogers.” She curls her tongue over her front teeth and raises an eyebrow. “Repeatedly, if I remember correctly.”

The Commandos let out whoops and whistles, shoving Steve between them. He breaks away and pulls Peggy tight against him.

“Not a night I’ll easily forget.” He leans down, stopping inches from her lips.

She pulls away, patting his chest. “Boys, get your fill. The Captain has another meeting in ten and that will be the last you see him this week.”

“Philips can’t work him around the clock, Carter.” Monty speaks for the first time since they walked in.

Peggy throws a devilish grin over her shoulder as she opens the door. “Like I said, last you’ll see him.”

Steve grins at the door closing behind her.

Peggy walks briskly back to the SSR office. She has eight and a half minutes to brew a tolerable cup of tea. She nods to the agent in the corner as she walks to the coffee stand. After dumping the contents of her coffee pot, she sets the coffee maker back up to run a fresh pot of water. While she waits, she makes her way back to her desk and plucks the cigarette from the center.

“I didn’t think you smoked, Carter.”

She smiles, pulling the cigarette from between her lips and releasing a puff of smoke. “Only when people I can’t punch question my competence.”

“Meetings with Congressmen?”

“As far as the eye can see.” She blows out a ring of smoke and watches it dissipate.

“How did a non-smoker learn to do that.”

She shrugs, releasing another ring. “How did you get out of babysitting duty, Dooley?”

He smiles, removing his feet from the desk and dropping his paper. “Loretta’s going to pop any day. Can’t leave a senator without an escort if I got to beat feet.”

“A week in the Arctic will really scramble a lady’s brain.” Peggy’s eyes light up. “Have you picked a name?”

“I'm thinking something classic like William or Anne.” He waves a hand and rolls his eyes. “The missus wants to be unique.”

Peggy chuckles, taking her mug back to the coffee pot. She makes a stop at Wilson’s desk, dropping her lipstick stained cigarette butt into his ashtray, before she continues to the coffee stand. She pours water into her mug and takes cream from the refrigerator.

“You going to marry this one, Carter?”

Peggy nearly drops her mug as she turns. “Who?”

“You know who,” Dooley snorts. “Look at you, blushing like a schoolgirl.”

She looks at the floor and smiles, feeling the heat in her cheeks. “Haven’t given it much thought.”

“Yeah, sure.” He props his feet back up on the desk.

Replacing the milk, she turns to leave. “I have less than two minutes to get back to the conference room. So, if there’s nothing else?”

He waves her off, lifting his newspaper.

Peggy hurries back down the hall, taking a siip of her tea. She grimaces; it tastes like coffee grounds. She sets her tea down in the conference room and ducks into the office where she left Steve. To her dismay, Stark has found his way into the little reunion. She’s barely squeezed through the door when he winks at her.

“Steve said you liked the pillows. I can have Jarvis bring some out for you, if you want.”

Peggy’s eyebrow pull together. Her eyes widen as she looks from Howard to Steve. “You took me to the Stark penthouse?”

The room falls silent.

“Steven.” She ignores the stares. “Grant.” She takes a step toward Steve. “Rogers.” She glares up at him. “Did I spend the night in Howard Stark’s bed?”

“Well, not the whole night,” Steve laughs weakly.

Peggy rubs her forehead, turning away. “I’m going to be sick.”

“It’s better than getting bed bugs from a rat infested motel.” Howard grabs her at the door.

“We have a meeting with the SSR Research Team, ” she sneers pulling her arm away.

Steve shoves his way out the door. “Peggy, what did you want me to do?”

“Take me back to my quarters as I suggested.” She corners him against the wall, whispering angrily.

Steve rolls his eyes, “Right. Because the gate guards never would have recognized me.” He sniffs at the air. "Have you been smoking?"

"Yes, what does it matter?" Her face goes stern again. “You could have gotten your own place.”

“I couldn’t even pay for the cab!”

Peggy huffs. “How long did Howard know?”

“I ran into him on my way to the Stork Club. I didn’t mean to tell him before you. I swear.” He shakes his head. “I wanted you to be the first to know I was alive, Peggy. I love you.”

She gives him a blank stare. “You what?”

“I, um-” He smiles when he sees the corners of her mouth twitch. “I love you, Peggy Carter.”

She smiles so briefly, Steve almost missed it. “Let’s go, Captain. We’re late.”

When they enter the room, Peggy and Howard take seats on opposite sides at the front of the table. Steve sits next to Peggy, and Philips sits along the back wall away from the table. The banter from the previous meeting continues, turning Steve a lovely crimson. When Peggy mentions the quality of Steve’s intelligence gathering, he kicks her ankle under the table.

“Like what?”

Peggy looks up. “Excuse me?”

“If Rogers found such significant information, shouldn’t we know about it?”

She should’ve known better. SSR Research has worked more with Steve than any other department in the Army. They’re too familiar with the situation to miss the innuendos.

“Well, yes, Doctor Andrews. I intend to write a report for proper dissemination.” Peggy smiles sweetly.

“Just a sneak peek, then.” He narrows his eyes.

Peggy shoots Howard a death glare. He went too far. Philips clears his throat quietly. Howard opens his mouth.

“Sergeant Barnes is alive.”

“What?” Peggy’s head snaps to Steve, while Howard chokes on his coffee and Philips nearly falls out of his chair.

Quiet murmurs fill the room.

“HYDRA must have found him after the mission on the train.” Steve stares intently at the center of the table. “I don’t know where, but they definitely have him.”

Howard looks across to Peggy. “That can’t be possible.”

“It shouldn’t be, no.” She shakes her head. “I planned that mission. The drop alone…” Her voice trails off.

“Not to mention the cold.” Howard rolls his chair around the table to sit next to Peggy.

Steve’s face is blank. His eyes are distant.

“Steve,” Peggy clears her throat, blood rushing to her cheeks, “Captain Rogers, how can you be sure?”

Steve doesn’t look away from the table. "I saw him."

The whispering turns to discussion to argument. "It's not possible...Why would Cap lie... If you saw him, how can you not know where he is... That doesn't mean he's still alive... It doesn't make sense..."

“Gentlemen,” Philips silences the room, “clearly Captain Rogers is not ready to discuss this revelation. We will reschedule this meeting.”

When no one moves, he stands and raises his voice. “That will be all. Enjoy your evening.”

When everyone has filtered our, Howard closes the door. Philips, Steve, and Peggy are the only others in the room. He returns to the front of the room and rests his arms on the back of a chair.

Philips moves to the seat across from Steve.

“Steve?” Peggy takes his hand rubbing her thumb across his knuckles.

Slowly Steve looks at each of them, landing on Peggy. He swallows hard. “We need to talk.”


	2. ...And a Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy's pregnancy start to finish. Ups and downs. LOTS of Steggy. Basically 1500 words of Steggy. Mostly cute/ heartfelt moments, one or two upsetting/stressful moments. The whole gang makes an appearance, except Tony of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I started this story super excited and I put A LOT of time into the first section. Then I got distracted and lost steam. But I really wanted to finish it. So, it gets worse as you read on. Sorry.

**September 1949**

Peggy turns over, staring at the ceiling in the darkness. She turns her head to look in Steve’s direction. His slow rhythmic breathing lets her know he’s still asleep. She looks back at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. She picks idly at her fingernails while chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Steve?” she asks quietly.

“Hmm?” He barely moves.

“Steve, I’m late.”

“Late for what?” He answers, groggy, “It’s the middle of the night.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Me, Steve. I’m late.”

“Oh.” He mumbles, barely audible.

“Oh!” He turns on his lamp, flips over to face her and props up on one elbow. “How late?”

“Just over a week,” she sighs.

Steve climbs out of bed and makes his way to the safe in their closet. He sets two small vials on his nightstand, strapping what appears to be a wristwatch around his palm. With the press of a button, a red and white suit materializes around him.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” Steve grabs the vials and inserts one into the side of his suit. He rolls the remaining vial in his hand and whispers to himself, “Last one.”

In an instant he disappears into thin air. Peggy watches, unimpressed. At this point, nothing really surprises her. She takes a deep breath, laying back down. She listens to the clock count out the seconds as they pass.

Twelve clicks later, Steve reappears. The suit folds back into the watch, revealing his smirk. He tears open a small pink box and passes Peggy the contents as he removes the watch and places it back in the safe.

“Pee on that.”

“Excuse me?” She looks at him wide-eyed. “Steve, what-” She turns the stick over. “What is this?”

He rolls his eyes, tossing her the box. “Just do it, please.”

She skims over the writing on the box. “I don’t need to go.”

“Then start drinking water. You woke me up at,” he looks at the clock, “three AM. You’re peeing on that stick.

He walks into the small kitchenette and fills a glass of water. He nearly drops it when he turns around and crashes into her. “Jesus, Peg. Don’t sneak up on me like that.” He raises an eyebrow. “How did you even manage that?”

She giggles, “It’s like four steps from here to the bedroom. Not much room for detection.”

He gives her the glass, and she takes a small sip. She smiles at him before raising the glass to her lips for another sip. Steve puts a finger under the glass, lifting the bottom. “I’m not waiting up all night for you to finish that.”

She takes a breath after drinking half the water. “Fine.” Another breath, and she finishes the glass, passing it back to Steve.

Twenty minutes and two and half cups of water later, Peggy paces the four steps across their bathroom. “This is from 2023? Shouldn’t it be instant?”

Steve chuckles from his place, leaning against the sink. “It’s a chemical reaction, Peggy. Not much we can do about it.”

She rubs her hands up and down her face, stepping over Steve’s feet as she paces. “We are not- Steve, we can’t- We, we don’t know anything about that serum.” She begins running her fingers through her hair. “What if it causes complications? We don’t know what it’ll do to a baby. What’s going to happen to me?” She wraps her arms around herself, breathing deeply. “Oh, god, Steve, how could we be so careless? Howard’s stupid pill didn’t work. I told you we couldn’t trust that bloody thing!”

“Peg, calm down. That pill worked for almost five years. Something must have happened.” He shakes his head. “Besides, we don’t even know if I can pass this on to my kids.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, you’re pre-serum genetics are much more comforting.”

“Okay, that stung more than a little.”

“We had a plan.” Her eyes water, and her voice is choked. “Howard’s still researching the serum. In another year or two, he could have had answers. But, right now…” She takes a deep breath.

Steve’s watch beeps twice, and Peggy stops pacing, staring at him eyebrows drawn together, eyes wider than he’d ever seen them. She stands in front of him and reaches a hand out for the test sitting on the counter.

“I’m going to be sick.” She draws her hand back. “You look.”

“We’re going to be fine.” Steve laughs and lays his hands on her arms, rubbing them gently. “Hey, look at me. It’s going to be alright.”

She nods and lets out a shaky breath. He releases her and turns to look at the pregnancy test.

_One_. She counts the seconds silently. _Two_. He doesn’t say a word. _Three_. “Oh, for the love of Christ! Get on with it.”

Steve smiles, “We’re going to need a bigger apartment.”

Peggy’s breath catches, and her knees give out. Steve catches her and lowers her gently to the floor, cradling her against his chest.

“What are we going to do?” She blurts out, breathless.

“We’ll figure it out.” He kisses the top of her head. “We always have.”

“We’re not ready,” she chokes out past the lump in her throat, “Steve, I can’t- I’m not- I can’t do this.”

“You’re not alone, Peggy. I’m with you through the whole thing.” He soothes, stroking her hair.

“No, I mean,” her voice trails off. “What if, I…” Again, she falls silent. “I’m not a super soldier. What if-” Her voice cracks. “What if I can’t? If something happens, Steve.”

“Peggy,” he whispers, pulling her back to look in her eyes, “I would never blame you for that.” He pulls her back into a tight hug, letting one hand slide to her belly. “We’ll ask Howard to run some tests, keep researching. We’ll do everything we can for the baby. And if it turns out to be impossible for you to carry a super-soldier,” he swallows the lump that forms in his throat, “Well, then, I’m still with you.”

She nods, nuzzling further into his chest.

“I know it’s not exactly what we planned,” Steve speaks softly into her hair, “but I couldn’t be happier about it.”

Peggy pulls back to study his face. When she sees his big, goofy grin, she lets out a few choked laughs. The tears that had already gathered in her eyes spill over onto her cheeks. She pulls him into a kiss. “We’re having a baby.”

He nods, leaning his forehead against hers, and whispers back, “We’re having a baby.”

**November 1949**

“Howard, it’s been two months! How can you not know anything new?” Peggy yells, advancing quickly across the room.

“I think I know how you got pregnant,” Howard says proudly.

Peggy stops moving and blinks slowly, rolling her eyes. “How many doctorates did it take to figure that?”

He laughs with a smirk. “No, I mean, I think those antibiotics you were taking for that dog bite reacted with my pill, rendering it…well, useless.”

“Howard, you have approximately eight seconds to tell me something useful.” She storms toward him.

Howard backs away just as quickly. “I’m not clairvoyant, Peg. I can only run tests.”

Steve grabs Peggy by the arm, holding her back.

She struggles against his grip. “Then run more. Better ones this time.”

“It’s not that easy. Your blood tests are normal, if that helps. Your hormones are adjusting normally. Weight gain is healthy. Activity levels appropriate. At least according to what I’ve read.” He answers more confidently now. “I have to work with what I have, and what I don’t have is a medical degree. I can’t just look through a window and-” He whirls around and runs to his desk, scrambling through notes and medical journals. “I might have an idea.”

Steve and Peggy look at each other and wait. Howard begins scribbling furiously and mumbling to himself.

Finally, Steve huffs dramatically. “Care to share with the class?”

Howard looks up, grinning. “Not yet. I’ll let you know when I have something.”

“Howard, I want to know right bloody now! If you think-”

Steve leads Peggy out of the room. “You have to calm down.”

Peggy turns on him, growling, “Don’t tell me what to do, Rogers. If I hadn’t listened to you two months ago, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Steve’s forehead creases as he furrows his eyebrows, and the corners of his mouth turn down. “Well, I don’t think that’s very fair.”

Peggy’s face drops, and her voice falters. “I didn’t mean- Steve, I just- I just-” She inhales sharply. “I just don’t know what I’d do if- if I-” She trails off, looking away.

"No, no, no.” Steve takes her chin and turns her face back to him. “Don't- Please don’t cry."

She leans into him, sniffling. “I’m sorry. But I can’t lose her."

Steve smiles, “Oh, her, huh? What makes you so sure?"

Peggy shrugs. “You disagree?”

Steve smiles, “I’m a super-soldier. It’s definitely a boy." He kneels down, putting a hand on her belly. “You're going to my best pal. We’ll play baseball, build a treehouse, race matchbox cars, wrestle in the living room, break a few things.” He glances up to catch Peggy's smile.

“Delightful.” She teases before pulling him up. “Do you think Ana has anymore of that shepherd’s pie?”

He laughs, “Would you like to go ask?”

She nods sheepishly. “And maybe she can make some of those odd little cookies.”

Steve cracks a smile. “You’re going to be trouble when Thanksgiving gets here.”

**December 1949**

Peggy paces by the front door, glancing at the clock. “Steve, we’re going to be late for our meeting with Colonel Phillips.”

He dashes out of the bedroom carrying one of Peggy's coats. “Please wear a second coat.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m pregnant, not ill.”

“And I'd like to keep it that way.” He holds the coat out to her.

“If I wear this, can we leave?”

He nods, helping her put it on. As he slides the coat onto her shoulders, he turns her around to kiss her.

She gasps quietly, dropping a hand to her stomach.

“What’s wrong?” Steve lays his hand on top of hers, searching her face for signs of discomfort.

“Nothing. I think-” Peggy laughs. “I think she has hiccups.”

Steve lets out a breath, dropping to one knee. He leans his cheek against Peggy’s stomach. “Don’t scare me like that, little guy.”

Peggy helps him stand up. “Let’s go. I’m burning up in here.”

Once they're in the car Steve glances her direction. “You really should consider cutting back on these meetings.”

“Steve, it’s a dinner meeting. There's nothing I do better right now than eat,” she laughs, “except maybe sleep.”

“So, you should be sleeping, not working.”

“This whole ‘SHIELD’ business was your idea!”

“That was before the baby.”

“Darling, it’s just paperwork. And I’m hardly even showing. I’m still perfectly capable of working.”

Steve frowns, eyes on the road. “But you’ll slow down in another month or two?”

She smiles, patting his shoulder. “We’ll play it by ear.”

When they arrive at the restaurant, Howard is already seated with Colonel Phillips in a corner booth. Steve takes both Peggy’s coats before approaching the table. When he motions for Peggy to slide in, she shakes her head.

“I should probably sit on the edge. I’m sure I’ll be making more than one trip to the loo,” she laughs.

He nods and climbs in, laying their coats between himself and Howard. “Gentleman.” They nod in response. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Just sat down.” Phillips answers gruffly. “It seems Sergeant Barnes is running late as well.”

Howard smiles, “Has that man ever been on time, Steve?”

Steve shakes his head. “Only if there was a pretty girl waiting on him.”

“Well, what am I?” Peggy jumps in.

Steve’s face reddens as he takes her hand, “My very beautiful wife.”

Peggy rolls her eyes. “You’re going to make me sick.”

As Howard and Phillips continue chatting, Steve leans over to Peggy and whispers, “Maybe tonight we only eat off our own plates?”

Peggy glares at him, answering through gritted teeth. “Do you have any idea what's happening inside me?”

“Hey, I'm not asking you to eat less.” He raises his eyebrows and the pitch of his voice. “We have money, Peg. If you're hungry, just order something else.”

“James doesn’t mind.”

“Honey,” Steve laughs, “I promise you he does.”

Peggy glances up at the sound of footsteps. “Well, speak of the devil.”

Bucky smiles, “Sorry I'm late.”

Peggy fakes a pout. “Steve said it's because I'm not pretty enough for you.”

Bucky shakes his head. “You should know better than to believe anything that punk says.”

Peggy smiles as Bucky slides in next to Howard. “Shall we begin?”

“Come on, Peg, let’s at least order drinks.”

“Steve won't let me.” Peggy scowls. “Something about twenty-first century healthcare.”

Steve glares at her, laying his hand on top of hers. “It’s not good for the baby.”

Peggy rolls her eyes. “He traveled through time, and now he thinks he knows everything.”

Howard laughs. “I could run some experiments if you want.”

“No, thank you. The last thing I want is to _prove _he's right.”

Laughter erupts around the table as the waiter lays a basket of bread on the table. He’s turning to leave when Howard waves at him.

“Scotch on the rocks.” He looks around. “Anyone else? First round's on me.”

Bucky orders the same, and Phillips orders a whiskey. Steve passes reluctantly after Peggy digs an elbow into his ribs. Peggy just asks for coffee.

Phillips stares at her open-mouthed. “In five years of Army service together, you never had even a taste of joe.”

Peggy shrugs. “She’s half American.” She nods down to her abdomen, reaching for a roll.

Steve smirks. “And _he's_ developing quite the taste for a good dark roast.”

Phillips rolls his eyes, while Bucky chuckles.

Howard scribbles calculations on a napkin. He snaps his fingers before looking up. “Peg, can you come over after the new year? I think I figured something out, and you're going to like it.”

“What could you have possibly figured out in two minutes on that tiny scrap?” Peggy blurts out.

“It's a surprise.” He smirks. “But you're going to like it. Both of you.”

“Sure, if that's what you want.” Steve sighs. “Just remember what happened last time you promised Peggy answers and couldn't deliver.”

Bucky whistles, shaking his head. “That's not a position I'd want to be in, even before the hormones shot through the roof.”

“Those are sights I will never forget.” Phillips laughs. “Stark going headfirst over his own worktable.”

Howard’s lips press into a line. “Yes, we all love a good ‘angry Peggy’ story.”

“I’m not overly fond of them.” Peggy adds with her mouth full, taking another roll.

The waiter returns with the drinks and asks if they’re ready to order. Before anyone else can answer, Peggy rattles off an appetizer, a soup, and a pasta dish.

“I guess we’ll have to be,” Steve chuckles, “Peg, what else would you like to try?” He follows her suggestion and orders baked chicken, even though he’d much rather have a steak.

As the others take their time ordering, Peggy glances at Steve, picking at the bread on her small plate. “You don’t have to do that. I can eat my own food.”

“And I’m very confident you will.”

She elbows him softly. “You should get what you want.”

He leans over to kiss her cheek, brushing a hand across her lower abdomen. “I already did.”

“You’re trying to make me sick, aren’t you?” The pink in her cheeks betrays her cool façade. “When I get back, we should get to work.” She addresses the whole table before making her way to the bathroom.

When she returns, she’s pleased to see the men flipping through files and picking at the roasted cauliflower she had ordered. When she takes her seat, she’s hit by a strong smell of hot parmesan cheese. She shifts in her seat trying to ease the churning in her stomach. She lifts her coffee mug, inhaling the aroma.

Steve sees her squirming and wraps an arm around her shoulders, squeezing gently. He leans in, brushing his nose against her ear. “Everything alright?”

She nods, using the smell of fresh coffee to push away her nausea. “What’s first on the agenda, boys?”

She sets the mug down to pick up the top file in the stack in front of her.

“We’ve got to draft a decent proposal. Barnes can’t write for shit.” Phillips drops the file back to the table.

“Barnes didn’t volunteer for this remember,” Bucky chimes in, setting his drink down. “I think the one who started this should do the heavy lifting.” He eyes Steve.

“Howard’s the one with connections. He knows how to talk to these people,” Steve argues back.

Howard jumps in before Steve can finish. “Peggy’s the obvious choice. Everyone knows-”

“Don’t you dare.” Peggy’s glare turns icy.

“The last thing Peggy should be doing is more work.”

She raises an eyebrow and purses her lips at Steve. “Peggy would be glad to do it.”

Phillips clears his throat. “Kids, if I may? I was suggesting we just work on it right here.”

They swap glances and nod.

“Steve can take notes.” Bucky grins. “Isn’t it great being voluntold to do things?”

Peggy swaps the file for the soup the waiter had just brought, as the smell of cheese starts to turn her stomach again. She leans over Steve's shoulder to read along.

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“Peachy.” Her smile is unconvincing. “Just some mild discomfort. Nothing I can't handle.”

By the time their meals arrive, Peggy has made another bathroom trip, and they’re nearly halfway done with the proposal.

Peggy grabs her coffee when the waiter sets down Howard’s steak topped with blue cheese crumbles and sautéed mushrooms. Leave it to Howard to order two of the most fragrant ingredients in the restaurant. She breathes deeply, willing her stomach to settle. She finds mild relief when Steve’s chicken is passed in front of her, overpowering everything else.

When her pasta is set in front of her, she’s hit with an overwhelming earthy scent. It could only be the truffle oil she had been so excited about. She tries to hold her breath until the waiter leaves, pushing her bowl toward the center of the table. She swallows hard, leaning to Steve.

Her voice is barely a whisper against his ear. “I don’t think I can eat that.”

Before he can answer, she’s out of her seat with a groan and halfway across the room. Steve jumps up to follow her, Bucky trailing behind.

“Steve, what’s wrong?” Bucky grabs Steve shoulder to stop him.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out. Just go sit back down, I’m sure she’s fine.” He pulls out of Bucky’s grip.

Steve follows Peggy around the corner and stops outside of the bathroom. He leans up against the wall opposite the door and waits. Two women walk in together. An elderly lady exits. A couple exits the men’s restroom and turn bright red when they see Steve chuckle to himself. Two waiters pass through the hallway three minutes apart.

When a woman in a black dress exits, Steve hears retching through the open door. He steps forward and throws his arm up, holding the door open. “Peg?”

A weak hum is the only response.

“I’m coming in.”

“You can’t,” she whimpers.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Rogers.” He kneels behind her and rubs her back.

She smiles and leans back against him, smudging her lipstick as she wipes her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” He brushes his fingers through her hair, getting them caught in her curls. “Everyone’s worried. You let us believe you were fine all night.”

“I was. Mostly.” She relaxes deeper into his hold, too exhausted to care that they're sitting on a bathroom floor. “It was that bloody truffle oil.”

She dry heaves at the thought, letting out a whimper.

“Oh, I'm sorry sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to her damp temple. “That was always such a treat.”

She sniffles, bracing herself against Steve's shoulder to stand. She walks slowly to the sink and turns on the water.

Steve walks up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her shoulder. “Are you okay?” He meets her eyes in the mirror.

“Yes, darling.” She turns her head to nuzzle into his cheek. “I'm just going to freshen up. Would you mind doing something about that smell?”

He chuckles, “Of course.”

When Steve gets back to the table, he assures everyone that Peggy is fine and asks the waiter to put the pasta in a box. “Stark, finish those mushrooms before she gets back.”

When the waiter returns with the box of food, Steve asks for more rolls and orders another bowl of soup. Which are delivered to the table just as Peggy returns.

She slides into the booth and kisses Steve's cheek. “You didn't have to do that.”

He smiles. “I know you're hungry.”

She looks at the box next to Steve and raises an eyebrow. “You can't eat that in the apartment.”

“Just eat your bread.” Steve rolls his eyes.

**January 1950**

Peggy lays on the Stark's living room couch, while Howard fiddles with a strange looking machine. Steve hovers behind Howard with a smile, trying to confirm his suspicions.

Howard wheels the machine over and starts it up with the press of a button. “Alright, Peg, lift your shirt up.”

“Howard, that didn’t work when I was bleeding out. Why would it work when I’m fully conscious?”

Steve perks up from his seat in the armchair. “Wait, what?”

“Long before you, pal,” Howard snickers, “Actually, it was the mission that made you possible.”

“I suppose I’ll have to hit you harder this time,” Peggy laughs.

“No, I still remember it.” He rubs his jaw, opening and closing his mouth twice. “I’m serious, though, lift your shirt.”

Steve smiles, “Just do it, Peg.”

She pulls her shirt up reluctantly, exposing her small, but noticeable bump.

“This is going to be cold.” Howard spreads a clear gel across her skin, prompting a sharp inhale from Peggy.

She giggles, “Way to go, Howard. You gave her the hiccups.”

“At this point, I think _he’s_ just screwing with you, Peg.”

Howard turns on the screen attached to his machine and lifts a small handheld device wired into the machine. He presses it firmly against her stomach.

Movement flickers across the grey screen as Howard moves the device across Peggy’s skin. He stops when he sees a large black spot with small grey blurs in the center.

“I got to be honest, Peg, I don’t really know what I’m looking at. Just that-”

Peggy gasps, “That’s her.” She grins, looking at Steve. “Darling, look.”

Steve moves to kneel beside the couch. “I know, honey.” He presses a kiss to her temple. When the image jumps, Steve cracks a smile. “He does have the hiccups.”

Peggy lets out a giggle that brings a few tears with it. “That’s her.”

Steve resists the urge call the baby a boy and nuzzles into Peggy’s hair instead. “Yeah, baby. I know.”

As the image on the screen moves and stretches, Peggy squirms on the couch. Steve rubs her shoulder, watching her adjust.

Howard pulls back and the screen goes dark. “Does it hurt, Peg?”

She shakes her head. “Can we see her again?”

“I have a meeting with Phillips, but I think Jarvis can handle this.”

Peggy tilts her head to one side. “You’re meeting without me?”

Howard takes his jacket from the closet, calling for Jarvis. “Weapons demonstration. Army business.”

Peggy nods as Jarvis enters the living room. “Oh, lovely. It worked.”

Peggy quickly wipes at her cheeks before turning to Jarvis with a smile. “I suppose Howard didn’t have a way to test it without me.”

Jarvis snickers, “Actually, he’s been attempting to map his own abdominal organs.”

Steve scrunches his nose. “Why in God’s name would he want to do that?”

Jarvis shrugs. “Science.”

“Would you like to see him?” Steve beams up.

Jarvis takes the seat Howard had been using and prepares the machine. “Let’s see what we can find.”

“You’re in luck,” Peggy adds, glancing at Steve, “_She’s_ quite active today.”

“I think _he_ just realized he can move.” Steve watches Peggy closely as she readjusts. “Kept Peg up all night.”

“I don’t mind,” she sighs absently, focused on the image that just appeared on the screen.

Steve can’t help smiling at her. The way her eyes crinkle at the corner every time the baby moves makes Steve’s heart stutter. It’s hard to believe she was a wreck on the bathroom floor just a few months ago. He looks up to the screen with a chuckle; it’s just black and grey blurs to him, but she seems to understand it somehow.

He leans over, mumbling to Jarvis, “Edwin, what am I supposed to be looking at here?”

“This here,” he points at a round, grey blur, “I believe, is her head.”

“His.”

Jarvis sighs, “Can you decipher the rest?”

Steve shakes his head, looking back at Peggy. “It’s alright. She can.”

Feeling eyes on her, Peggy looks up. “What?”

“Nothing.” Steve flashes a smile. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Oh, Ana is making palacsinta for lunch. It’s-”

“I know what it is. Would she mind two extra mouths?”

Steve laughs, taking a towel from Jarvis to clean the gel on Peggy’s stomach. “Really more like three.”

Jarvis cleans the equipment and pushes it into a corner. “I’ll call and let her know. She’ll be thrilled.”

Just as they walk up the driveway, Ana walks out the front door. She always seems to know when they arrive.

She meets them on the sidewalk, throwing her arms around Peggy. “How is she?”

Peggy pats Ana's back, sticking her tongue out as Steve passes. “_She’s _just learning how to move.”

“That’s so exciting,” Ana beams, walking into the house with Peggy. “I made some more of those kolache cookies you like.”

Steve looks over Jarvis's shoulder. “Ana, that’s very kind, but Peggy’s supposed to cut back on the sugar.”

Both women glare at him, and Ana waves a hand. “Her body knows what it needs. If she wants dessert, she should have dessert.”

Peggy looks at Steve biting her lip. “I should always get dessert.”

His cheeks go pink, and he lets out a chuckle as he follows Jarvis into the house. He can hear meat sizzling on the stove. The smell of grilled onions, mushrooms, and beef hits him like a wall. He takes a deep breath of the delicious smell. He turns quickly to Peggy, smile fading.

Her eyes are closed, and one hand rests on her bump. Steve rests a hand on her waist.

“Peg, we can go if you’re not feel-”

A smile spreads over her face. “Ana, that smells fantastic.”

Steve steps back with a chuckle, looking at Jarvis. “Just yesterday, she made me eat outside because the onions made her sick.”

“Ana has a way with these things.” Jarvis smirks. “You’re both welcome to come over anytime she’s not feeling well.”

“Do you think she could convince Peggy to sit down more?”

Jarvis smiles and nods to the dining room. Peggy is sitting down with her feet propped up. She’s explaining Howard’s new machine to Ana, while snacking on blueberries.

Jarvis takes a step toward the kitchen, but Steve grabs his arm. “If you make her stand up, I will put you through a wall.”

The two men take seats in the living room. It only takes twenty minutes for Ana to finish lunch and call them into the kitchen. Peggy moves her feet and prepares to stand.

Steve lays a hand on her shoulder and plants a kiss behind her ear. “Sit. I’ll fix you a plate.”

She tries to stand, his hand pressing down on her shoulder.

“Please,” he adds softly. “You’re doing all the work. I want to help.”

She sinks back into the chair with a smirk. “Only if you’re going to help me later too.”

“You have more hormones than you know what to do with, huh?” He kisses the hinge of her jaw before leaving. When he returns with a plate stacked with crepes, he whispers, “Eat fast and you won’t have to wait for later.”

Her breath catches, and her face flushes. She bites her bottom lip and cuts into her food, taking a large bite. She glances across the table at Steve the entire time, his eyes dark. She can feel her chest flushing as she loses control of her breathing.

After her last bite, she stands abruptly pushing her chair back. “I’m so sorry, Ana. I’ll have to take a rain check on those cookies. Steve, we need to go.”

Ana looks her over, stifling a laugh. “I would have to agree.”

“Ana!” Jarvis scolds from his seat.

“Please, Edwin, we’re all adults.”

Steve hurries Peggy through the living room and out the front door. They make their way across the expansive lawn to the Stark’s house. They walk in the back door, and Steve retrieves his car keys from the hook.

“Let’s get you home.” He walks toward the front door.

Peggy follows a few steps behind. “Steve.” Her plea comes out more whiney than she intended, but it gets his attention. “Howard’s gone to a meeting, and Maria is probably resting upstairs. You know how she gets.” She closes the distance between them, the swing of her hips more exaggerated than normal.

“What are you getting at?” He leans down and brushes his lips against hers.

Her eyes flit to the door on their right and she bites her lip. “This house is so big. No one will know.”

He presses his lips to hers as he opens the door. “Ladies first.”

His hand on her back sends shivers up her spine. Once inside the garage, she turns to face Steve. He backs her up against the wall with a heated kiss. As his lips move down her neck, he can feel the vibration of her soft moan.

He growls in response, lifting her off the ground. One hand on her thigh and one braced against the wall, he leans into her again, leaving a trail of red marks across her skin. She tugs at his hair. Her head rests against the wall, baring her neck for Steve to kiss and nip at.

“Steve,” she whimpers when her belly prevents her from pulling herself closer to him, “this isn’t going to work.”

He chuckles, puffing warm breath across her sensitive skin. “Alright, baby.” He sets her down and looks around. “Hold on.”

Peggy giggles as Steve opens the door and they walk back into the house. He looks at her amused. “I can’t believe you said-” He clears his throat when he sees Jarvis carrying a laundry basket through the foyer.

Peggy’s laughter cuts short and she yanks her sleeves down to cover the fingertip bruises already forming around her wrists. “I think you’ve got squirrels, Mr. Jarvis.”

Steve can’t tell whether she doesn’t know about the trail of small, fresh bruises down her neck and collar or if she doesn’t care. She’s committed. “We heard something scampering around on our way through and decided to have a look.”

Jarvis raises an eyebrow and pinches his lips together. “Yes, I believe I heard something as well. Quite the creatures we’ve got in there, hm?”

“Quite.” She agrees with a smile. “They’re clever little bastards too. I’m afraid they’ve scuffed up the paint on the hood of Howard’s Jaguar.”

“And busted the taillight on the Aston Martin,” Steve adds quietly, looking away.

“Right.” Peggy nods.

“Pity. Those were Mr. Stark’s favorite to take out joyriding.”

“Mine too.” Steve smirks over his shoulder as he leads Peggy out the door.

**February 1950**

Steve follows Peggy out the door with a huff. “You promised you’d take it easy.”

Peggy maneuvers carefully into the passenger. Her cute, little bump had quickly become a full, pregnant belly. “I said we’d see. I feel fine, Steve.”

She shifts in her seat, hiding the discomfort of all the extra weight on her back. It’s really starting to hurt. And she’s confident her boobs could not possibly get bigger. But the worst part, by far, is the tiny foot jabbing into her lowest ribs. It never ends.

Steve huffs again as he backs out of the parking spot.

“Howard and I are just schmoozing some senators. I’ll be sitting the entire time.”

“I just wish you could have rested more before we go look at houses today.”

“Steve, I am perfectly capable of a little light walking.”

“And stairs?”

“I guess you’d better find a one-story.” She winks at him.

Steve reaches over and lays a hand on her stomach. “Is someone getting too heavy for Mommy?”

“I knew you were heavy.” She takes a deep breath. “But I honestly had no idea something the size of a squash could weigh so much.”

Steve laughs. “Well, he had a big breakfast.”

“It wasn’t that big.” Peggy glares.

“You ate more than I did.”

“So, you’re the standard for acceptable portion sizes?”

“What? No, Peg-”

“You’re the only one allowed to eat?” She pushes his hand from her belly. “Fine. I’ll just eat salads from now on. And water.”

“I was just-”

“I’d hate to get too fat for you, Captain.”

“Peg, you’re not fat.”

“Yes, I am,” she whines, “I had three slices of toast, four eggs, two bowls of cereal, a ham sandwich and an entire grapefruit for breakfast.”

“That’s fine, honey. You’re growing- A ham sandwich?”

“While you were in the shower.” She nods with a sniffle. “I’ve gained twenty-five pounds. Everything is swollen. I haven’t seen my toes in a week. And I- bloody hell!” Her hand darts to her back. “She won’t stop kicking my ribs. I can hardly breathe without searing pain.”

Steve pulls into a parking space and takes her hand. “I’ll give you a massage tonight.”

“I don't want to be pregnant anymore, Steve. It’s exhausting and annoying and emotional and hard and, and I just want to sleep again.”

“Peggy.” He wipes the tears off her cheeks. “You are so beautiful.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Well, yes, of course. But I mean it. Eat as much as you want. Cry as much as you need. Because this,” he leans across and kisses her belly, “you and him. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

She sniffles with a chuckle. “Look at me. I’m a bloody wreck.”

Steve puts on a smile and imitates her accent. “You’re my bloody wreck.” He looks back to her belly. “Now, quit making Mommy cry. We have work to do.”

After Steve helps her out of the car, she gives him a kiss before they walk inside. Howard waves them over to a corner booth. He lets out a low whistle as they approach.

“The little tyke had a growth spurt, huh?”

Peggy glares at him as she waits for Steve to slide into the booth. “Sod off.”

“She’s a little sensitive today,” Steve whispers.

Peggy groans sitting next to Steve. “She’s not deaf, though. You prat.”

Howard looks between them, eyebrows raised. “So, this is what it’s like?”

Steve shrugs. “Sometimes. You just never know.”

“Well, I would like to see you create life in nine months and not be a knob about it,” she snarls, “I think I’m doing quite well.”

“You _are_ going to turn on the charm before the congressmen arrive, right?” Howard chuckles.

“Howard, would you prefer I break your right hand or your left?”

“Easy, dear.” Steve rubs her shoulder.

Peggy rolls her eyes.

“I asked because-”

“Oh, you are too sweet.” An older woman approaches the table, resting her hand on Peggy’s stomach. “How far along are you?”

Peggy grits her teeth. “Far enough that I don’t enjoy being touched.”

“Peggy,” Steve’s tone is scolding. “I’m sorry, she’s British.”

The woman walks away with a glare and a huff.

Howard takes a breath, “Maria’s pregnant.”

Peggy raises her eyebrows. “On purpose?”

“Well,” Howard laughs, “I’m not one to be outdone. Even by the good Captain, here.”

Steve cracks a smile. “That’s great, Howard. Congratulations.”

Peggy scoffs. “Maria’s in for a real treat.”

Steve gently kicks Peggy’s ankle. “There are many more good moments than bad.”

Peggy smirks. “Like the foot rubs.”

“The first time you feel him kick, you’re going to wonder how you ever lived without the little fella.” Steve glances at Peggy sideways. “And when she talks to herself because she thinks no one is listening and wants to keep him company, you’ll wonder how you got so lucky.”

“Sometimes, Steve thinks I’m asleep, so he tells her how much he already loves her and asks her to go easier on me.”

“He grows a little every day.” Steve looks at Peggy’s belly, then meets her gaze. “And she gets a little bigger. And every time you look at her, you realize you’re another day closer to finally seeing that little guy.”

“At the same time, you begin to doubt if she’s ever going to come out.”

“And you wonder how in the world you’re ever going to let them know how much you love them.”

Peggy smiles sweetly at Steve, her eyes searching his. And the world seems to fade away. Howard leaves for the bathroom to spare himself the awkward moment.

“Keep it up, soldier, and I might just find something more useful to do with my sleepless nights.” She bites her lip.

Steve kisses the hinge of her jaw. “Now that sounds like fun.”

“Hello, Mrs. Rogers. I thought Mr. Stark was joining us.”

Peggy turns away from Steve, cheeks flushing. “Yes, Senator Brandt. He’s just freshening up.”

After lunch, Steve and Peggy meet a realtor to tour houses.

Peggy takes a seat on the steps and leans her shoulder into the wall. She can hear Steve talking with the realtor upstairs. She shifts uncomfortably and rubs her stomach. “Come on, little lady. Don’t you ever sleep?”

As Steve and the realtor come back down the stairs, she struggles to stand. Steve rushes down the stairs to help. “Peg be careful. You’re center of balance is different now.”

“Oh, thank you,” she grunts, “I hadn’t noticed.” She looks at the realtor. “Could we have just a moment, please?”

She nods, “Of course. I’ll wait in the kitchen.”

After she leaves, Peggy turns to Steve. “You said no stairs.”

“You’re not going to be pregnant forever. I didn’t want to disqualify entire houses just because they don’t work right now.”

“Well, the last three houses had two floors, and I’m exhausted now. So, I guess you can look at the single stories while I nap in the car.”

“Oh, Peg, don’t be like that.”

“Steve.” Her tone doesn’t invite argument. “I have had a super-soldier kickboxing with my liver since breakfast. I’m tired. I’m sore. I’m hungry.” She shakes her head. “I’m done.”

“Okay,” he nods thoughtfully, “well, did you like any of the houses we looked at today? Besides the stairs.”

She shrugs. “Maybe the one in Eagle’s Landing.”

“You want to be in a neighborhood? I kind of always thought we’d have a lot of land.”

“Oh, no Steve. That cabin was too outdated. What about the townhouse?”

“Peg, that’s barely bigger than what we have now. What’s wrong with a fixer-upper?”

She glares at him. “I’m five months pregnant. The only thing I want to be fixing is pancakes.”

“Fair enough.” Steve chuckles. “Well, what’s wrong with this one?”

Peggy looks around. “I don’t know.”

“But you don’t like it?” Steve asks dejected.

“No.” Peggy shakes her head, blinking back the tears that welled up suddenly. “There’s just something wrong.”

Steve sighs. “Alright. We’ll look again next weekend.”

Peggy lets out a whimper. “We’re never going to find a house.”

Steve pulls her into a hug. “Yes, we will. It just takes time.” He lifts her chin to look in her eyes. “This isn’t just some temporary apartment. This is our home. I want it to be perfect for you.”

She nods, leaning into him with a sniffle.

**March 1950**

Steve rolls over, stretching his arm out to wrap around Peggy’s stomach. When his hand hits the sheets, he slides further toward her side, sweeping his hand along the bed. When he still can’t find her, his eyes fly open, heart racing. He throws the blankets off, sitting up. When he sees light shining under the bedroom door, he slowly makes his way down the hall.

Peggy jumps with a loud gasp when she turns to see Steve leaning against the wall. The tub of ice cream and spoon drop to the floor with a clatter. Peggy groans, pressing against her side.

Steve rushes to her. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s really strong and doesn’t like loud noises.” Peggy takes a breath, squatting to clean up the mess.

“Go, sit. I’ll get this.” He helps her stand before getting a towel to wipe down the floor. “Can’t sleep?”

“I can.” Peggy eases herself into a chair with one hand braced against the table. “She can’t.”

Steve shakes his head, taking a seat in front of her. “That’s the third night this week.”

“I don’t think she likes the new place.” Peggy waves her hand around the kitchen.

“Or maybe,” Steve raises an eyebrow.

Peggy points a finger at him. “Don’t you dare blame the coffee or I’ll have a glass of wine to help me sleep.”

Steve raises his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright. It’s the house.”

Peggy laughs briefly and falls silent, rubbing her eyes. “I’m so tired.” The sentence is nearly a sob. “I’m supposed to go in front of Congress in seven hours. What am I going to do?”

He stands up slowly and offers her his hand. “You’re going to come lay down with me and get some rest.”

“I can’t.” She lets him pull her up to standing. “She won’t be still.”

Steve rubs her stomach softly. “He’ll calm down. Even if you can’t sleep, you need to rest. Relax.” He walks beside her down the hall. “If we need to, we can call Buck. He can handle a couple senators.”

Peggy stops with a groan, grabbing Steve’s arm. “Say something else.”

“What?” He gives her a blank stare. “Like what?”

“Anything. I don’t care. Just something.” He stares at her, mouth opened, and eyebrows raised. She sighs, “Sing something.”

He chuckles before humming a familiar tune that has Peggy cracking up.

“Who will campaign door-to-door for America? Carry the flag shore to shore for America.” He chokes back laughs between lines

Soon Peggy is in tears, waving a hand for him to stop. “The Star-Spangled Man doesn’t do well under pressure.”

“That’s why he always has a plan.” They finish walking back to the bedroom. “It’s the only thing I could think of without thinking.”

“You still know it after how many years?”

“I heard it so many times. Shows, rehearsals, the radio, kids in the street,” he groans. “So, were you just trying to embarrass me or was there a point to that?”

She settles into a semi-seated position on the bed. “She likes your voice. She calms down to listen to you.”

Steve’s eyes brighten and crinkle at the corners when he smiles. “Why didn’t you just say that? Come here.” He sits beside her and bends down to kiss her bump. “I’ll always talk to my best pal.”

He slides his arms under her shoulders and knees, lifting her off the bed. He repositions her so she’s laying down more. She pulls into his side and sighs heavily. He kisses her forehead, wrapping an arm around her back and laying a hand on her belly.

“Get some rest. I’ll keep the little guy company.”

Peggy closes her eyes and lets Steve’s soft, soothing voice lull her to sleep.

“Peggy, please let me help you.”

“I don’t need it.” She struggles to stand up from the couch. “See? I’m ready to go,” she adds breathless.

“Honey,” Steve treads lightly, “you’re wearing two different shoes.”

She drops back onto the couch with a heavy breath. “It took me so long to get them on!”

“I really wish you wouldn’t wear heels.” Steve kneels in front of her and slides her shoes off. He sits down beside her, wipes a tear from her cheek, and kisses her temple. “Which one did you want?”

She sniffles, running a hand carefully through her hair. “The red one.”

Steve leaves and comes back with a matching pair. “Sweetheart,” he slips them on for her, “I hate watching you struggle.”

“Steve, I’m pregnant, not an invalid. I can take care of myself.” She pushes on his shoulder to lift off the couch. It takes her a few tries before Steve helps.

“I know that, Peg. Everyone does.” He wraps an arm around her waist and walks her to the car. “But it’s not fair. That’s my baby too, and I want to do _something_.”

She grabs his forearms to lower herself into the car. He eases her down and pulls the seatbelt out far enough that she can reach it. He makes sure she’s situated before shutting door and getting in the driver’s side.

He looks over at her before starting the car. “I clearly can’t help you grow the kid. So, please, just let me help you.”

She studies his face, eyebrows pinched, lips turned down, eyes full of concern. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t realize.”

He nods and puts the car in reverse. “It’s okay.

She takes Steve’s hand and brushes her lips along his knuckles. She smiles sweetly against his skin. “I could use some more help getting around at home.”

He smiles at the road. “Anything you need.”

“Sitting down and standing up. Doing dishes. Taking a shower.” Peggy glances down. “She’s just so heavy.”

Steve chuckles. “_He’s_ going to be strong.”

“_She _already is.” Peggy rubs her back. “She’s not fond of being confined by my ribs.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

When they arrive at Capitol Hill, Peggy waits for Steve to open her door and leans heavily on him as she stands. He waits for her to catch her breath before holding out his elbow. She takes it, shifting her weight so most of it is on his arm.

“My feet are so swollen,” she whispers as they pass a security guard.

Steve chuckles, turning toward her. He bends down and sweeps her off the ground. He pulls her up close to his chest with a grunt. “Better?”

“This is not what I had in mind.” She lays her head against his shoulder without protest.

He carries her through the parking deck and into the building. When he sets her down in front of the security checkpoint, he takes an exaggerated breath. “You weren’t kidding about being heavy.”

She smacks his arm, harder than she meant to. He winces and rubs the spot.

Peggy kisses his jaw, too tired to reach up to his cheek, before walking through a metal detector. She waits on the other side, watching as Steve makes his way through. Once he’s put his belt back on, she takes his arm and they turn to continue their trip.

An alarm blares behind them. Steve turns to see the lights on the closest metal detector flashing red. Peggy yelps, pulling hard on his arm. He flexes to hold her weight.

“Steve,” she gasps out between labored breaths. She’s holding her side and slowly falling into a crouch. Her face is flushing quickly, sweat beading around her hairline, but her hand is cold against his.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Steve lowers her gently. “Are you okay?”

“No.” She grinds her teeth and tears spill over her cheeks. “It hurts.”

“Is it- Peg, are you- Are you in-”

“No,” her breathing is ragged and shallow, “something’s wrong.”

He helps her sit on the floor, pulling her back against his chest. She shivers against him. “Just keep breathing. I’ll call Howard.”

“No. Real doctors.” Peggy scrunches her face and pushes harder against her side. Pain shoots through her abdomen and around her back.

When Steve hears sirens approaching, he scoops Peggy up and carries her out to the street. He’s standing outside when the ambulance pulls up. The paramedics open the back door and start yelling at Steve when he tries to climb in.

“You can’t lift her. Get out of my way.”

The two paramedics exchange glances before allowing Steve past. As soon as he lays her on the gurney, they step in attaching wires and asking her questions. She struggles to speak and squirms on the bed.

“I’ll have Phillips send one of the doctors from Project Rebirth to meet us at the hospital.” Steve combs his fingers through her hair once and steps back.

Peggy nods, gasping. “Can’t breathe.” She gestures to her heavy midsection.

The two men help her turn onto her side. Her relief, though slight, is visible as she takes a deep, shaky breath. They slide a mask over her nose and mouth, telling her to breathe deep.

When Steve hangs up the phone, he listens in to what the medics are telling Peggy. Judging by the tears pouring down her face and her quivering lips, she’s not hearing any of it.

“…isn’t typical pain for a miscarriage. The bad news is that this isn’t a typical pregnancy.” One of the men looks at Steve. “I assume this is your-”

“Yes,” Steve snaps without looking away from Peggy. “So, what _is_ wrong with her?”

The other man takes a deep breath. “Symptoms match acute appendicitis.”

Steve’s gaze snaps to the man who answered his question. “Wha- what does that mean?”

“Her appendix is-”

“I know what it means. I meant, what happens next.”

The other medic glances up from prepping an IV. “If it hasn’t ruptured, antibiotics and rest.”

“And if it has?” Steve watches the medic's hands move, quickly sliding the needle into Peggy’s arm.

“Keep still.” He stretches her arm out along her side, looking back at Steve. “She’ll need an appendectomy.”

The two paramedics discuss options before settling on a treatment plan.

“Her blood pressure’s dropping. I’m concerned about shock. She needs a vasopressor,” the older man commands.

“What about the fetus?”

“Just do it.”

The younger man prepares the syringe and injects it into Peggy’s IV. The older medic observes her vitals. He seems satisfied with the response and returns his attention to his partner.

“Let’s give her a low dose narcotic.”

The younger man stops what he’s doing and eyes the older man. “She’s pregnant. Very pregnant.”

“And that doesn’t matter if she’s dead.”

The younger man doesn’t budge.

“I’ve been doing this long enough to know when it’s time to break some rules.” The older man sighs. “She’s crashing, quickly. We need to manage what we can. The pregnancy has a much better chance if we don’t have to break out the defrib.”

After a beat of silence, the younger man nods and prepares another syringe. He passes it to his partner, who administers the dose. Within minutes, the tension in Peggy’s face eases and her breathing normalizes. Slowly she opens her eyes and smiles weakly at Steve.

“Besides,” he looks at Steve, “I have a feeling this pregnancy is a little sturdier than what we’re used to.”

Peggy groans when they drive over a pothole. “Steve?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m so sorry, darling.” She chokes back sobs. “I don’t know if-”

“Stop it.” His voice is firm. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It hurts so bloody much,” Peggy whimpers quietly, “I can’t feel- I can’t feel anything else.”

“It’s alright.” Steve swallows hard, easing the tightness in his chest. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

The paramedics exchange concerned glances but say nothing. The rest of the ride is silent except for Peggy’s whimpering and Steve’s occasional soothing. The hospital is a flurry of activity. The ambulance is overtaken by organized chaos the moment it arrives.

Peggy screams with the jolt of the gurney being wheeled out the back door. She reaches a hand out for Steve. He takes it, jogging beside her, and reassures her that everything will be better soon. She squeezes his hand tighter with every bump and jostle.

They move down a large hallway, approaching doors at the end. A nurse looks over her shoulder at Steve, “You can’t go any further.”

“That’s my wife and child,” Steve growls.

“I understand, and we will keep you updated, but you cannot go any farther.”

They come to a stop outside the doors. Steve doesn’t move.

“Look, Captain, you can try to intimidate all you want. I understand there’s no way for us to really make you do anything.” She takes a breath. “But the longer we wait here, the worse she gets.”

Steve looks at Peggy. Her face is tense and red. Her free hand is pressed firmly into her stomach, and her body is shuttering with sobs. He slowly drops her hand and kisses her head. “I love you.”

Peggy twists around to look at him as they push her through the doors. For the first time ever, Steve sees terror flash across Peggy’s face as the doors swing shut. He can hear her screaming for him until a nurse escorts him to the waiting room.

He paces the floor as the clock ticks by every minute at a painful pace. He visits the nurse’s station twice, asking for an update, which they didn’t have. He examines a vending machine with no intent to buy anything. He makes a cup of coffee, just to occupy his hands and mind. He takes a seat and flips absently through a sports magazine. He watches the flow of people through the emergency department. His heart clenches when he sees a young mother desperately trying to comfort her feverish toddler.

He stands and paces again, avoiding the scene with the toddler. The TV newscaster’s voice washes over him, the dull drum of the unprocessed words easing the anxiety in Steve’s mind. Steve finally sinks into a chair on the opposite side of the room from the toddler. He rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, forcing his muscles to relax.

The opening of the double doors catches his attention. He jumps up, looking for a familiar face, someone who had taken Peggy. A young boy on crutches laughs as his mom follows him through the waiting area. They leave with a quick wave and thank you to the staff.

Steve sits back down. Deep breaths. Relaxed muscles. Eyes closed. Heart hammering. Thoughts running rampant. Instincts screaming to be with Peggy.

Doors open. Steve jumps up. An unfamiliar doctor walks out. Steve sits back down. The process continues for what feels like hours. By the time Peggy’s doctor comes out, Steve has stopped caring. He doesn’t even open his eyes when the doors open.

“Mr. Rogers?”

Steve jumps up, nearly knocking the doctor over. “Is she- Are they- How are they?”

He lays a hand on Steve's arm. “They're both just fine. We performed an emergency appendectomy. We expected complications given the complexity of the situation, but they are recovering as well as can be expected.”

Steve lets out a long breath, sitting down. He leans forward, combing a hand through his hair. “Thank God.”

“Your doctor arrived just as we put your wife under. He’s monitoring their vitals now. Your wife's oxygen levels are still low, I'd like to keep her here for a while.”

Steve nods. “When can I see her?”

“When she wakes up. Should be less than twenty minutes, now.”

Steve settles into his seat, actually relaxing for the first time since Capitol Hill. He closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing. Everyone is safe. By some miracle, they both pulled through.

It's not long before a nurse is leading Steve back to Peggy's room. She's curled on her right side with an oxygen tube under her nose. Her eyes flutter, not really opened or closed, when he enters the room. He kisses her hair.

She hums softly, leaning into him. Without opening her eyes, she taps lazily on her lips. He leans down and leaves a kiss on her lips.

She smiles. “You taste like coffee.”

He chuckles, “How do you feel?”

She opens her bloodshot eyes. “Fantastic.”

“I bet. It looks like they've got you on some pretty strong stuff.”

She hums her agreement. “I should do this more often.”

Steve sits in the edge of her bed. “You definitely should not.” He lays down behind her, draping an arm over her side. “I was so worried.”

“She's finally sleeping.” Peggy runs a hand across her belly.

“Then you should too.” He kisses behind her ear.

“That tickles,” she giggles, looking over her shoulder at Steve, “You are so handsome.”

He chuckles. “I’d have to be to catch such a gorgeous lady.”

“You know what would be fun right now?” She gives him a lopsided smirk, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. “My skin is all tingly and sensitive.”

“You just had an organ removed. I don’t think that’s on your 'safe activities' list.” He combs his fingers through her hair.

“It’ll be alright.” She sticks her bottom lip out and rubs her hand up his side. “I know you’re still wound up from all the excitement.”

“Peggy, you’re still hooked to a heart rate monitor. Do you know what happens if your heart goes too fast?”

She glances at the line, already spiking, on one of the screens. “Since when do you mind a little company?”

He shutters as she draws her thumb across his lips. “Tell you what. Get some rest now, while you can. Later, when the little guy wakes up, I’ll help you get back to sleep.”

Peggy nods and closes her eyes, relaxing against him. Steve presses lightly at her belly, alarmed at the stillness. He moves around pressing into different areas until Peggy takes his hand. She turns over, leaning against Steve more, and places his hand on the right, underside of her belly.

He waits, finally feeling the smallest push against his palm. It’s followed by slight pressure under his fingertips, and it’s gone. Peggy moves his hand again, more to the right, and the pressure is back. He sighs as he moves his hand to track the movements.

Peggy was right, he’s certainly not the gymnast he was yesterday. He seems to be slowly stretching out and turning over in his sleep. Steve chuckles against Peggy’s neck. Movement is movement. He pulls his hand away and helps her roll back onto her side.

“I thought I was going to lose both of you.”

Peggy snuggles into him. “Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

**April 1950**

Steve returns from his jog barely sweating. He stretches on the front porch, hoping Peggy was still asleep. He took the short route today so he could make her breakfast and lay in bed with her a little.

When he opens the door, the smell of sizzling bacon hits. He can’t help but smile; she beat him to the punch. He walks into the kitchen to find eggs, bacon, toast, tomatoes, and beans sitting covered on the counter. No Peggy. He makes his way to the bedroom, listening for movement.

He opens the bedroom door, still no Peggy. His heart rises as he enters the room. He knows it’s a ridiculous thought, but he scans for signs of a struggle or forced entry. “Peggy?”

There’s a groan from the bathroom. With a sigh of relief, Steve hurries toward the sound. “What the hell happened?”

Peggy looks up at him from the floor, rubbing her head. “I don’t know.” She pulls her eyebrows together and shakes her head slowly. “I was making breakfast and I started feeling a little weak. I came in here to run a bath.”

Steve takes a knee, checking her over. “You look alright. Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head. “Just a little dizzy.”

“They said to keep an eye on your blood pressure.” He raises an eyebrow at Peggy. “Were you standing the whole time the food cooked?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Peggy.” His eyes meet hers. “You have got to quit doing so much.”

“I’m bored, Steve. I need to do something.” She groans as Steve pulls her to her feet.

“Bedrest.” He waves toward the bed. “If you need to walk around the house and stretch a little, fine. But I don’t want you out of bed for more than a few minutes at a time.”

“Steve, I’m going stir crazy in here.” She eases onto the bed.

“I don’t care.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, sitting beside her. “Doctor West specifically said you need to limit your activity. Unless you want another organ rupture.”

Peggy rolls her eyes. “It was the alarms, Steve. She didn’t mean to kick me so hard, and she certainly didn’t know that was my appendix. It won’t happen again.”

As if on cue, Peggy grabs Steve’s arm, doubling over. She squeezes his forearm hard enough to bruise an average man and presses a hand against her back.

Steve helps her ease back against the headboard. “I know you want to act like you can handle this, but it’s killing me, babe.” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re in so much pain. Even when he’s still, he’s so heavy it hurts you. And the scar from surgery is still so sensitive.”

“You heard Doctor West; my stitches healed in record time.” She brushes her fingers across his cheek. “Steve, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He pulls her hand from his face and kisses her fingers. “And don’t you dare say ‘minor discomfort.’ Your body is already working too hard, stop adding problems. Just, please rest.”

She nods thoughtfully. “Will you bring me something to eat?”

Steve leaves the room with a chuckle. He pours two cups of coffee and fixes three plates full of food: one for him, two for Peggy. And she’ll probably still want more. He grabs a tray from a cabinet and carries everything to the bedroom. He sets the tray down beside Peggy and sits down with her.

She takes a plate and rests it on top of her belly. “Can you change the channel, darling?”

Steve grabs a strip of bacon before walking across the room. “Tell me when to stop.” He flips through channels slowly; glad he moved the TV set in from the living room.

After cycling through all the channels twice, Peggy sighs. “Just leave it on the news. There’s nothing good on during the day.”

Steve turns the volume down and sits back on the bed. He takes a deep breath. “I know you’re uncomfortable, and it’s not fair. But, please, Peggy, stop fighting me on this.” He chews a bite of eggs before taking her hand. “I am so worried about the two of you.”

“I know, darling.” She sets her plate on the side table and leans into him. “Sometimes she just can’t be still, and it hurts so much.”

“So, call me. Let me walk with you. I’ll rub your shoulders or your feet. I’ll talk to him or rub your belly. Whatever you need but stop putting yourself into risky situations.”

She’s quiet, watching Steve eat. She picks at the food on her plate but doesn’t eat much. When he’s finished, she looks up at him. “Could you help me with the bath?”

He kisses her forehead firmly. “Of course. Would like me to get you a book?”

She nods. “And the memo from Philips.”

He turns on the water in the tub and takes the dishes to the kitchen. He’s not even out of the hallway when Peggy lets out a long scream. He drops everything in his arms and sprints back in.

Peggy’s sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes squeezed shut. “Walk with me.” She eases off the bed, pressing into her left side.

Steve takes her right arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Contraction.” She grits her teeth and starts walking. “They’ll pass.”

Steve takes her arm, carrying as much of her weight as he can. He guides her carefully over the broken dishes in the hall and takes her out the back door. They take several slow laps before Peggy begins breathing normally again.

“Better?”

She nods. “Those were worse than before.”

“Well, we’re getting closer.”

“Steve, I’m barely at thirty weeks.” She shakes her head. “It’s too soon.”

“Honey,” he kisses her forehead and jerks back, “Shit! Don’t move, babe.” He throws the back door open and runs into the house.

Peggy heaves a sigh, waddling slowly after him. She can hear him cursing while she makes her way down the hall. By the time she gets to the bathroom, she’s breathing heavily. She leans against the doorway chuckling.

The bathtub is full to the brim and Steve is on his hands and knees mopping the floor with towels. He tosses the soaked towel in his hands onto the pile next to him and turns around to get a dry one.

“Mother fu- Peg? You were supposed to wait for me to help you.”

“Yes, well, you can’t expect a woman to wait around all day.” She winks at him before bringing him a dry towel.

“I can’t believe it.” He rubs a hand down his face. “We’ve barely been in the house a month, and I flooded the bathroom.” He spreads the towel on the floor and walks back to Peggy. “After I get this cleaned up, I’ll fix your bath.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t worry with it. I think I’d rather take a nap.”

“I’m sorry, Peg.” He rests his head on her shoulder, forcing her to lean on the wall for support. “I can’t believe I did that.”

“It’s fine, darling.” She combs her fingers through his hair. “Just a little water.”

He nods against her shoulder before straightening up. “Let me at least help you get back to bed.”

He walks her back to the bed and helps her undress. She lets him lift her onto the bed. After he gives her a kiss, she snuggles under the heavy blanket. He turns to walk back into the bathroom.

“You’re not going to stay with me?” She asks through a yawn.

He looks back at her eyes fluttering closed and smiles. “I’ll clean up later.” He climbs into the bed and nestles close against Peggy’s back.

When she wakes up, she rolls onto her left side to face Steve, but he’s gone. She sits up slowly and looks around. When her vision gets blurry, she leans back against the headboard and waits for the room to stop spinning. When she stands up, she wobbles a little, but stays on her feet.

She checks in the bathroom, but Steve isn’t there. She smirks at the discoloration along the bottom of the cabinets before heading to the hall. She finds Steve eating a sandwich and reading the paper at the kitchen table.

He lays the paper down and pushes his chair back when he hears her come in. “I didn’t want my growling stomach to wake you.”

“My own stomach did that.” She takes a bite of his sandwich and closes her eyes with a hum. “Peanut butter.”

“Do you want me to make me one?”

She shakes her head. “But you can make you one.”

“Oh, I see.” He reaches for the sandwich, but she pulls it away. “That’s mine.”

“As is this.” She points at her belly. “I’m taking the sandwich.”

She finishes the sandwich and gets a glass of water.

“You should be in bed.”

She sets the water down and walks over to him. “Maybe you should take me then.” She straddles his lap and leans in to kiss him. “You’re going to have to meet me halfway, darling.”

He closes the distance between their mouths with a laugh. She nibbles at his lower lip, drawing out a sigh. He pulls her away. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“Oh, no.” She bites her fingernail. “Did I misbehave?”

“As much as I love where your head’s at,” he chuckles, “we are definitely not doing _that_ while you’re pregnant.”

“But I can’t relax.” She looks up through her eyelashes.

"That much, I can take care of." He wraps an arm behind her and pushes off the table with the other, standing up. “You're on top."

**May 7, 1950**

Peggy paces the living room, clutching her side. The pain has kept her awake for the last hour. And it’s getting worse. The last wave nearly brought her to her knees. She feels the pressure build under her ribs and looks at the clock.

“No, no, no.” She braces herself against the couch. “Steve!”

She can hear him moving almost immediately. He’s in the living room in under a minute. “What’s wrong?”

She breathes heavily as the spasm subsides. “The contractions are worse.”

“But we’re still five weeks out.” Steve puts an arm around Peggy’s waist as she doubles over.

“I don’t think,” she grabs his other arm, squeezing tighter by the second, “she cares.”

Steve looks at the clock. “Okay, eleven twenty-seven.” She eases her grip. “That was about thirty-five seconds.”

“Walk with me?”

Keeping his arm around her waist, he grabs her elbow and walks down the hall with her. “How long have you been up?”

“A little over an hour.” She shrugs. “I tried to sleep through it, but they’re so strong. And, I swear, she’s fighting it.”

“It’s alright, babe.” His voice is calm and steady. “Just breathe.”

“You fucking breathe. I’m going to die.” She snaps, doubling over again.

Steve cranes his neck to look at the clock around the corner. “Damn it.” He looks at Peggy and walks her toward the wall. “I have to go look at the clock real quick.”

She lets out a yell as he runs into the living room and calls back, “Eleven thirty-five.” He runs back in, and she’s still curled up in pain. “I’m going to get my watch, let me know when it passes.”

As he exits the room, he sees Peggy slowly straightening up. “Maybe thirty-seven, forty seconds.”

“They were more than twenty minutes apart at dinner,” she pants.

Steve shakes his head. “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?”

“I could handle it.”

He stops walking and stares at her. “Peg, how long have you been having contractions?”

“Regularly? Just since lunch.”

“When did you go into labor?”

She winces. “Yesterday afternoon.”

“Margaret Elizabeth.” He drops her hand. “How the fuck could you not tell me that?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.” She leans into the wall with a heavy breath. “There was nothing- Bloody Norah!”

Steve checks his watch. “That one was fast. Only five minutes.”

“I’m fine.” She takes a deep breath. “That wasn’t as long.”

“I deserved to know.” He gives her a harsh glare. “You’re not alone. Stop acting like it.”

They take several more laps up and down the hallway. Each pass goes faster, and Peggy stands up straighter. After fifteen minutes, Peggy looks at Steve. “I think they might be over for now.”

“Do you think you can sleep?”

“Oh, God, yes.”

For the first time that night, Steve notices her bloodshot eyes. He kisses her forehead and helps her into bed. “Wake me up the second they come back.”

He’s woken by Peggy’s squirming. “How bad?” He reaches over and rubs her shoulder.

“Long,” she breathes out through gritted teeth.

“Okay,” he grabs his watch, “I’ll time the next one.”

“Help me up.” She struggles to sit up.

Steve pulls her up before climbing out of bed. She slides off the bed, leaning heavily on him. They walk up and down the hall, just as before. Peggy’s contractions are five minutes apart. She straightens up from a particularly painful contraction and begins walking with Steve again.

When she stops, Steve looks at her. “Are they over?”

“Steve,” she takes a shaky breath, “I think my water just broke.”

“Shit. Stay here.” He rushes down the hall, then sprints back to her. “Do you want to sit on the couch while I get your bag?” She shakes her head, and Steve is off again. He comes right back. “Do you want me to walk you to the couch for support?”

Again, she shakes her head, and Steve hurries toward the bedroom. When he turns back to her, she growls, “Just get the bloody bag.” She yells as she doubles over.

It only takes Steve five minutes to get her things and call their doctor. He lays a towel in Peggy’s seat, helps her in, and buckles her seatbelt for her before sitting behind the wheel. He cuts eight minutes off their drive to the hospital.

“Can you walk?”

She nods and climbs out of the car. Steve helps her walk to the front desk in the emergency room. She leans against Steve’s arm as he argues with the nurse over getting into a room.

Peggy lets out a bloodcurdling shriek as she crouches to the floor. “Steve,” she gasps, “Steve, help.”

He sits on the floor beside her, taking her hand. She squeezes his hand until he groans.

“You’re doing great, honey.”

Peggy eases her grip and takes deep breaths. She stands with a groan, leaning against the counter. “Listen here, you daft twat. You have about five minutes before I take my clothes off, room or not.”

Steve looks at her, face going pale. He turns to the nurses, “I’m sorry. She’s just- she’s not- she won’t do that.”

“Shut the bloody fuck up, Rogers.” Peggy glares at him, digging her fingernails into the counter. “I’ll do whatever I goddamn please.”

“Peg, you’re not thinking clearly. Let me-”

“And you’re not pushing a cantaloupe out of your- Mother of Christ!” She pulls on Steve’s shoulder, digging bruises into his bicep.

“You’re going to want to find her a room. She’s just getting started.”

Steve paces around the waiting room with her. After her the next contraction accompanied by a stream of screams and curses, they put her in a room. The minute the door is closes, she begins stripping her clothes off. Steve rushes to help her, begging her to slow down.

“Why do you want your clothes off so badly?”

She stares at him. “I am very uncomfortable, Steve. Everything hurts. I can barely breathe. There’s fluid leaking out of me. And quite frankly, I’m just tired of dealing with it.”

When Steve helps her into the bed, she curls up on her side. Steve adjusts the bed to a reclined, seated position, so can still breathe while laying on her back. She goes through three more contractions, nearly breaking Steve’s hand, before a doctor comes in.

“Hello, Mrs. Rogers, my name is-”

“Epidural,” she groans, leaning into Steve’s arm, “now.”

The doctor chuckles, picking up a phone on the wall. After a quick call, he turns back to Peggy. “Mrs. Rogers, I’m Doctor Walker. I’ll be working with you until Doctor West arrives.” He rolls his chair closer. “Do you mind if I take a look?”

She nods, and he lifts the top sheet.

“Your water has broken, and so far, you’re at about four centimeters. Still quite a ways to go.”

“You’re joking.” She tosses her head back into the bed.

“I’m afraid not, Mrs. Rogers. But the anesthesiologist should be here shortly.”

As Walker leaves, Steve takes him by the arm. “I assume you’re aware of our…unique situation.”

“If you mean you’re Captain America,” he says, “then, yes, I’m well aware.”

Steve nods with a half-smile. He returns to Peggy’s side just as another contraction wracks through her. “Hey, just a little longer, honey. You’re doing great.”

“Oh, cut the rubbish, Steve.” She glares at him. “I’m not a dog.”

“You want honesty, then? You’re being a-”

“Just shut up,” she groans reaching for him, “and hold my hand.”

She goes through four more contractions before the anesthesiologist walks in. “Good morning, Mrs. Rogers.”

“Oh, fuck off.” She tightens her grip on Steve’s hand and throws her head back against the bed.

Steve looks at the doctor with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry. She’s not normally this bad.”

“Not a problem.” He shakes his head. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Mrs. Rogers,” he raises his voice over her groans, “you have to hold still for me to do an epidural.”

Steve watches her writhing on the bed. “What if she can’t?”

“Then she’ll have to breathe her way through it.” He pauses for Peggy to let out another scream. “I can’t put a needle in her spine unless she’s perfectly still.”

When the pressure around Steve’s hand eases, he looks down at Peggy. “Honey, can you be still for just a few minutes?”

“I can try,” she answers weakly. “Just hurry.”

She rolls onto her side and curls up. She takes deep breaths and holds Steve’s hand tightly. As she feels her abdomen tighten, she closes her eyes. “Are you almost done?”

Steve looks across the room at the doctor. He barely has the local anesthetic prepared. Peggy groans and starts squirming while they exchange glances. The doctor shakes his head.

Steve leans down to kiss Peggy’s hair. “Sweetheart you have to be still.”

Her body stiffens with a groan. As whimpers escape her throat, her muscles start trembling. “Steve, I can’t.”

The anesthesiologist approaches the bed. “I can’t so anything with her like this. I could hurt her.”

Steve tries to coax Peggy back into stillness while the anesthesiologist stands ready to inject the local anesthetic. The door opens slowly and Doctor West enters.

“Cap.” He nods at Steve.

Steve tips his head, not shifting his focus from Peggy. West walks over to the anesthesiologist and speaks softly. Steve can hear them discussing the epidural and other options. Finally, as Peggy releases Steve’s hand again, West turns to them.

“Do it now.” The anesthesiologist skillfully guides the needle into Peggy’s back, causing her to wince. “We’re going to take care of you, Carter. Just be as still as you can.”

She takes a deep breath and looks up at Steve. His face is tense, eyes focused on the doctors. When he feels her tug at his arm, he crouches down next to her. He kisses her fingers and rests his forehead against hers.

“I know we talked about two.” Her voice is wet. “But, Steve, I don’t think…I don’t think I can do it again.” She clenches her jaw and squeezes his hand.

Steve cups her cheek with his hand. “Sweetheart-”

“Steve,” West commands, “hold her still.

Steve jumps up, laying across Peggy. He pins her down as best as he can without hurting her. She struggles against him as the contraction builds. She whimpers relentlessly, her fingers closing tight around Steve’s hips.

When West nods to Steve again, he leans back, letting Peggy wriggle free. He squats back down, combs a hand through her hair, and looks into her eyes.

“Neither can I.”

Steve brushes the hair out of Peggy’s face until her breathing slows. Her muscles relax, and she sinks into the bed with a tired smile. She rolls onto her back with Steve’s help, and smiles at the anesthesiologist.

“I could kiss you right now.”

“I don’t think your husband or my wife would appreciate that,” he laughs. “My name is Alan Reynolds. If the pain starts coming back, call me. Sooner is better than later.” With that, he leaves the room.

“It’s nice to see you conscious again, Peggy,” West smiles.

“Oh, but the appendectomy was just like old times.”

“Except you weren’t bleeding out, and Steve wasn’t yelling at me the entire time.”

They all share a laugh, before West continues.

“We’re going to put you an IV to make sure you stay hydrated. I’ve cleared you for any pain meds you may need.” He glances at Steve. “Even with all the research from the war, I have no idea how the serum will affect you. But if it does, you’ll need all the drugs they can find.”

“Can I sleep?”

“Absolutely. The nurses will be in soon to set up a contraction monitor. Then get some rest.”

When he leaves, Peggy pulls Steve into the bed next to her.

“You should call James and Edwin.” She leans into his shoulder.

“After you fall asleep.” He takes her hand. “How do you feel?”

“Much better. It’s bearable now and getting better.”

“Good. You should get some rest. You’ll need it later.”

She smiles but shakes her head. “We need to talk about names.”

“Yeah,” he lets out a chuckle, “I guess we should.”

“If it’s a boy, I want to name him Michael.” She focuses on her fingernails.

“I think that’s perfect.” Steve kisses her head. “And for a girl?”

She shrugs and smiles, “Bucky is an adorable nickname for a girl.”

“Bucky isn’t an adorable nickname for anyone,” Steve snickers, “The only reason it stuck is because he hated it so much.”

They’re still laughing as the nurse comes through the door. Steve recognizes the face. She definitely witnessed the meltdown in the lobby.

“You seem much happier.” The nurse laughs, prepping the machine she wheeled in.

Peggy’s cheeks heat up as Steve hides his face behind his hand.

“Damn it, Carter, we need you to push!” West yells from his place at the corner of her bed.

“That’s what I’m bloody doing!” She screams over the discussion of the dozen doctors that had been deemed necessary for a safe delivery, “Steve make him stop yelling at me.”

“If that were true, I wouldn’t be yelling at you.”

“I’m trying.” She squeezes Steve’s hand, her whole body shaking. “I don’t like this any fucking more than you do!”

“Try harder. You’re in the home stretch.” One of the three obstetricians urges.

Peggy glares at him. “Just do your goddamn job and get it out of me!”

“Blood pressure rising,” a nurse states calmly.

"Steve," Peggy pants, glancing up, "Steve, I can't do this."

"Yes, you can." He shakes her hand. "You're doing great."

"Keep pushing." Walker jumps in.

"No, I'm not." She drops her head back. "It's too hard."

"Carter!" West yells again. "Let go."

She grits her teeth through a contraction and drops back onto the bed. "I'm so sorry, darling." She reaches up to stroke Steve's face. "I can't push anymore."

The nurse looks at West and shakes her head.

Steve strokes her sweat-dampened hair. “Try and calm down. Do you want some water?"

Peggy nods weakly and waits for Steve to retrieve her cup. After a long gulp, she clenches her fist around Steve's hand and squeezes her eyes shut. "I can't," she whimpers, pressing against her back, "do it."

The doctors begin discussing possibilities with increasing ferocity.

“I have an OR ready if we need it.”

“She doesn’t need an OR, she needs to push.”

“Peggy, can you hear me?”

"Yes, you can." Steve's voice barely breaks through the rest.

“Is preeclampsia a concern?”

“At this point a sneeze is a concern.”

Peggy shakes her head, whimpering.

“Blood pressure spiking.”

"Peg, look at me." Steve takes her by the chin and bends down to look her in the eye. "You are the strongest woman I've ever laid eyes on." He runs his thumb over her cheek, wiping away sweat. "You can do anything."

She studies his face, eyes boring into Steve's. She takes a slow, deep breath and nods.

“Get them out,” Peggy growls at Steve.

Steve smirks. “Everyone out. West and Walker can stay. The rest of you need to go.” Steve’s voice booms above the chaos.

The pulmonologist answers, “Mr. Rogers, we really need all the help we can get with such a-”

“Bull shit. Everyone is here to see the first, and possibly only, birth of a super-soldier.”

Peggy clenches her fingers around the rail on the bed, squeezing her eyes shut with another scream. “Get out!”

Doctors and nurses begin filing out of the room without arguments. With the door open, Bucky can be heard cackling in the hall. In less than two minutes, the room is nearly empty. All is quiet except for Peggy’s groans.

“Breathe, honey. Don’t need you passing out.” Steve kisses her hair, squeezing her hand gently in the seconds between contractions.

“Shut up, Rogers.” She groans, “You put me here.”

“Good, Peggy. Finally making some progress,” Walker says calmly.

“God, I’m going to throw up.”

Steve combs through her hair with his free hand. “Not much longer, now. You’re doing great.”

“Go to hell.”

After twenty more minutes of soothing from Steve, Peggy zones out. Her face is red and covered in sweat, and she has steadily tightened her grip on Steve’s hand for the last ten minutes.

Walker finally speaks up. “Alright, I think this is it. Just one or two more pushes.”

Peggy inhales deeply through her nose, jaw clenched, and tosses her head back. She releases Steve’s hand briefly before letting out a grunt that quickly turns into a scream. She crushes Steve’s hand hard enough to make him groan.

Just as she releases Steve’s hand with a loud gasp, West looks at Steve. “Cap, you want to cut the cord?”

Steve smiles, “I’m alright.” He leans down to kiss Peggy’s cheek. “You did it, baby.”

She smiles weakly, reaching up to move the strands of hair plastered to her face. Steve laughs, not taking his eyes off Peggy until a cry erupts from the foot of the bed.

Steve’s eyes dart to Doctor Walker. Peggy leans forward briefly, unable to hold herself up. Steve clears his throat, helping Peggy sit up right.

“Which one of you wants to hold your daughter first.”

Steve meets Peggy’s gaze and nods. He steps to the side, so Walker can pass the baby to Peggy. He sits down next to Peggy. As the two doctors leave the room, Steve leans over to brush a finger over the baby’s cheek.

“What do you think about Sam?” Steve forces the question past the lump in his throat.

Peggy lets out a wet laugh. “Samantha is British enough.”

Steve glances at Peggy. “Samantha Michelle.”

“He meant a lot to you.” She beams at him. “Wilson?”

Steve nods, focused on Sam. “He’s a good man.”

He watches Peggy cradle Sam, leaning down to rub noses with her, and his chest tightens. Peggy’s hair is a mess, and her face is flushed. Her eyes are bloodshot with dark circles underneath, but her smile is the brightest thing Steve has ever seen. She’s radiating pure joy, her face glowing from euphoria.

He leans forward, kissing Peggy’s forehead. “Can I?”

She nods, and Steve leans in closer. They carefully swap Sam, Steve pulling her tightly to his chest. “Hey, baby. I’ve been waiting a real long time to see you.” He chokes back the closing in his throat.

When she nuzzles into him, the wall breaks. He lets out a quiet, choked laugh as tears spill over his cheeks. He lifts her up and drops his forehead to hers. “I will never let anything happen to you.”

He glances back at Peggy. She’s grinning at him with tear stained cheeks, crinkling the corners of her eyes. “You are so beautiful.”

She smiles, moving closer to Steve. He puts his arm around her, leaning back. Peggy curls into Steve, closing her eyes. She mutters a quiet “I love you” before relaxing into a half-sleep.

“Hey, Buck, you want to come in now?” Steve calls into the hallway. “Just be quiet. Peg’s trying to sleep.”

“Sure, but the whole gang’s here now.” Bucky peaks his head in the door. “You sure you’re up for that?”

Peggy’s eyes flutter open and she nods. “Just for a moment.”

“Jeez, Peg, you look like hell.” He opens the door fully and waves everyone inside.

Peggy raises her hand in Bucky’s direction, extending her middle finger.

A light flashes, and Jarvis appears from behind a camera. “Ah, yes. A heartwarming shot of mother and…”

Peggy rolls her eyes, allowing Steve to fill in the blank. “Daughter. Samantha Michelle.”

Howard strolls in with Maria leaning heavily on his arm. Her free hand rests against her back, supporting her growing belly.

“Aw, Peg, I’m hurt,” he laughs, “Didn’t name her after me.”

The camera flashes again.

“Edwin, please.” Peggy swats at the camera. “You heard Bucky; I look like hell.”

“Nonsense.” Ana steps forward, patting Peggy’s hand. “You’re glowing.”

“Ana, please.” Peggy smiles, “If I look anything like I feel, I don’t want to see a mirror.”

“Steve, lean down a tad.” Jarvis holds the camera ready.

Steve obliges, taking in the chaos as he smiles proudly. After the flash, Jarvis turns to take a picture of Bucky laughing with Howard. Steve looks down at Sam, somehow sleeping through it all. He kisses her nose and whispers, “This, all the crazy and all the chaos, this is our family.” He takes another look around. “And you’re going to love them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, it gets worse toward the end. I'll try to come back later and fluff it up some more, add some good shit to the weak parts.  
Let me know what you think, what I should add. Thanks for reading!  
Also, I'm adding a Bucky-centric chapter to my "Teenage Daughter" story, and I need some ideas.


	3. ...And Loses a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy gets baby fever again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sweet and sad; strong Steggy bonding. Warning for anyone who's sensitive about having/not having children.

Peggy bursts through the front door and scans the lawn, searching for the source of the squeal she just heard.

“Ah-wee,” Sam shrieks, pushing on Ollie’s chest.

Peggy sighs, smiling, and takes a seat on the top step. Ollie has Sam pinned to the grass by both shoulders. Despite being two years younger, Sam is nearly the same size as Ollie and just as strong. She flips over knocking Ollie and the pair goes tumbling across the lawn, each toddler trying gain control over the other.

“No fair,” Ollie yells, pawing at Sam’s wrists.

She presses harder into his chest. “Don’t pull my hair.”

“You cheated,” he grunts, shoving his knee into Sam’s gut.

“No,” Sam topples to the ground coughing and clutching her stomach, “I didn’t.” Tears well up in her eyes, and she lets out a sniffle, dragging the back of her hand across her nose.

Ollie jumps up and wraps his arms around her. “I’m sorry.”

Sam nuzzles into his neck. “I didn’t cheat.”

“Okay, Sammy, I believe you.” He combs through her hair and pulls her back by the shoulders, whispering, “You want to have a little fun with your mom?”

Sam blinks her tears away and nods.

Ollie stands, pulling Sam with him and raises his voice. “Let’s go find some frogs, Sammy.”

Sam grins and skips after Ollie, toward the backyard.

Peggy’s on her feet in an instant. “Oliver James, don’t you dare.” She jogs after the children, bare feet pressing into the cool grass. “Samantha, you’ve already had a bath.”

The moment Peggy steps around the corner, Sam jumps into her arms, Ollie diving at her knees. Peggy lands on her back with a gasp, and rolls Sam to the side, letting Ollie tangle himself around her legs. Letting out an exaggerated squeal, Peggy grasps for Sam’s ankle, missing by an inch. Sam pounces on Peggy’s chest, earning a breathless chuckle. Peggy grapples weakly with them until Steve pokes his head out the door, calling them in for dinner.

Peggy tosses Ollie to the side and folds her legs underneath herself. Wrapping her arms around Sam, she rises to her feet.

“Alright, love, fun’s over.” She slides Sam to her hip, and reaches down for Ollie’s hand, walking them both back inside. She looks down at the scuff in her pants leg and raises an eyebrow at each of the children. “Look what you’ve done to my favorite work pants.”

Sam buries her red face in Peggy’s shoulder, leaving Ollie to take the full force of Peggy’s soft glare. Steve welcomes them back in with a grin, kissing Peggy on the cheek. He helps the kids wash up while Peggy pours herself a glass of wine for dinner. It’s spaghetti night, Sam’s favorite. Which means it’s a sauvignon blanc night for Peggy. She takes Steve’s favorite beer from the fridge. He’d taken a liking to lagers during his European tour.

Over dinner, Steve goes over his most recent phone call with Bucky. Bucky was taking his eight-month pregnant sister, Sarah, to the hospital after she blacked out and fell off the side of the tub while giving Ollie a bath. Sarah seemed stable, but with low blood pressure. She would likely be induced tomorrow. Sean, Ollie’s father, was on his way back from a conference in New York City, and would stay with Sarah at the hospital. Bucky would pick Ollie up first thing in the morning.

After dinner, Steve gives Ollie a bath while Sam and Peggy make popcorn and cookies. The four of them play several rounds of Candy Land, Ollie’s choice, before bed. Peggy’s eyes crinkle at the corners every time Ollie helps Sam find the right space. Even with her super-soldier development, the game presents a challenge to her. She much prefers outdoor activities, but Ollie calmly walks her through the rules time and time again, celebrating with her when she wins the first round. He’s so ready for a little sister that it makes Peggy’s chest clench.

Peggy glances across the table, watching a smirk spread across Steve’s face, dimples appearing quickly. His eyes glitter as he moves his own piece, laughing at Sam’s high-pitched giggle. When Peggy wins, Sam promises to team up against her with Ollie. While Steve tries to explain that Candy Land is a game of chance, Peggy wipes the chocolate off Ollie’s hands and turns down Sam’s bed. After another round, she herds the toddlers to bed and turns on Steve.

Before a grin can cross his face, Peggy’s lips are on his. She drags into the bedroom, yanking at the buttons on his shirt. He tears his shirt open, popping off the last buttons. Peggy pushes him to the bed and fumbles with his belt while he tosses his shirt aside.

“I got to tell Bucky to let us babysit more often,” he pants.

Her teeth scrape up his neck and nibble at his earlobe, fingers working at the button and zipper on his slacks. “No, love.” She rakes her nails down his sides.

His confusion is interrupted by the distraction of Peggy’s blouse dropping to the floor while she climbs on top of him. “But I like,” he groans, wrapping his hands around her hips, “what it does to you.”

“No, Steve,” she shakes her head, grinding her hips into his and grinning, “I want another one.”

Steve’s eyes widen, and his hands tighten around her. “Whoa!” He rolls over, dropping Peggy onto the bed beside him. “What?”

“Please, Steve.” She springs up to her knees, wrapping her arms around Steve’s neck. She knows he doesn’t want more. “Just one.”

He worms out of her grip, picking her shirt up off the floor. “Get dressed. I’m not having this conversation at a disadvantage.”

“Two years is a fine difference.” Peggy tugs her shirt over her head and sits in the middle of the bed.

“Peg,” Steve takes a long breath, “we’ve talked about this.”

“Just one.” Peggy smiles weakly.

Steve crosses his arms. “We have one.”

“We can adopt.” She shuffles to the edge of the bed.

“Peg, we can’t bring a regular baby into the house with Sam.” Steve rubs a hand through his hair. “We can barely babysit.”

“She’ll learn,” Peggy pleads.

“She broke Tony’s arm.” He drops his hand to his side, raising his voice. “Playing Red Rover.”

“She didn’t know, Steve. She’s-”

“A child.” His face hardens. “We can’t ask her to take on that responsibility.”

“Steve-”

“Peg.”

She sinks into the bed as she looks at her fidgeting fingers, “I can do it.”

“I- beautiful-” Steve tips up her chin. “Baby, I want another one too.”

“Really?” she sniffles.

“Of course, I do.” He gives a halfhearted smile. “Baby, I want more than almost anything to have a big family with you.”

Her eyes brighten. “Steve, just one more would make me more than happy.”

He takes her face between his hands. “I can’t risk you again.”

She pushes him away, eyes misting over. “I can handle it.”

“I can’t.” He grabs her arms, forcing her to face him. “Peggy, I can’t watch you go through that again. You could have died.”

“I didn’t.” She wrenches herself out of his grip, sliding off the other side of the bed.

“You don’t many expendable organs left,” he jokes.

Peggy sneers at him, walking to the bathroom.

“Peg, come o-” He rushes across the room, reaching the bathroom just in time to have the door slammed in his face.

He raises a hand to slam it into the door, but restrains himself, laying it gently on the doorway. “Peg,” he breathes.

With no answer, he turns to his dresser, changes into pajamas, and climbs into bed. He’d been willing to give up everything to help the war effort. As a twenty-four year old, asthmatic art school dropout, ‘everything’ didn’t seem like much. Now, looking her in the eyes, it’s more than he ever dared dream of having. If he’d known what it would do to her, they would have adopted from the beginning.

He’d rather die than have this conversation.

Peggy emerges from the bathroom wearing a long nightgown, hair pinned into curls. She wraps a silk scarf over her hair, easing to the bed next to Steve.

“You still do your hair like that?” Steve raises an eyebrow.

She massages lotion into her hands and up her arms. “Only on occasion, my darling.”

“I see.” He nods absently and rubs along his jaw. “Peggy?”

She picks up the red polish on her nightstand. “Yes, my love?”

“Look, I know this is really shitty of me.” He sighs. “I know. I just-”

“How could it possibly be worse?” She fills the chips in her nail polish as if she were telling him the weather.

“I think,” he pauses again, clearing his throat. “I think you should get a hysterectomy.”

“What?” Her voice cracks, and her fingers tighten around her bottle of nail polish.

“I’d get a vasectomy, but I don’t think it would take.”

“You have no right,” she answers, voice faltering, heat racing from her chest. “You don’t get to ask me that. You-”

“Peg, please,” Steve’s soothing tone only infuriates her further.

“This is your fault,” she yells, jamming her brush into the bottle, “I was perfectly happy with my life with the Army. I didn’t need children. I didn’t want- Then you came in and- Now, I- I only want one more, Steve. Is that too much to ask?”

“We can’t take that kind of risk. Not again.”

She slams her nail polish back onto the nightstand, locking eyes with Steve. “There’s another way to make that guarantee.”

Steve’s brow furrows before he lets a smirk flash over his face. “Peg, come on, doll.” He reaches out to rub her arms.

“Don’t-” Anger flares in Peggy’s eyes, her face flushing, chest heaving. “Don’t touch me. Don’t even look- Just get out.”

“Peg.” His voice drops to a whisper, wrinkles forming on his forehead. “Sweetheart.”

He lays a hand on her elbow. She jerks away, shoving him back. “Out. Get out.”

“Okay.” He yields to her pressure. “Okay, I’ll go.”

“I don’t even want to see you.”

“Yeah.” He snatches his pillow from the bed and takes a blanket from the closet. “Good night, beautiful. I love you.”

Peggy gives a sharp nod and swallows, barely managing to choke out, “You too.”

Steve stalks to the living room, throwing his pillow and blanket on the couch. He drops onto the couch, grumbling to himself. She’s too stubborn for her own good. He always wanted a big family; he’s Catholic, after all, and practicing for the last several years.

He stares at the ceiling in the dark. All he’s wanted since the moment he laid eyes on Peggy is to make her happy. He only ever wants to see her smile, little dimples peeking out. And when she bites the tip of her tongue to keep from giggling, he can’t help but smile with her.

She’s never kicked him out before. In nearly a decade of putting up with his stupid shit, she’s never asked him to go away. Not even when he took Howard’s secretary out for drinks when Peggy said she needed space at the end of the war. Instead, she had slipped into his quarters after his date and reminded him what he was missing. She didn’t speak to him for two weeks after, but she didn’t tell him to leave.

His request had cut deep, and now he knows why. He understands what it means to not have a single interest in things like family and meet someone who makes it all you think about. Starting a family was all Steve thought about since Tony solved time travel. But when Peggy could hardly make her own coffee without stopping for a breather, he knew she couldn’t handle another pregnancy. The appendicitis was the nail in the coffin. He’d known for almost three years that they’d only ever have one child. This conversation was inevitable.

Steve pushes the unpleasant line of thinking out of his mind, leaving his head empty. An aching hole spreads deep in his chest. Closing his eyes, he drifts into a restless sleep.

“Steve?”

“Peg?” He cracks an eye open, straining to see in the dark. “How long have you been up?”

Several, long moments later, she sits on the couch by his stomach. He turns onto his side, sliding away until his back is flush against the back of the couch. She lays down, facing him, and presses her face against his bare chest. He can feel her lip quivering against his shoulder.

“I’ll do it,” she whimpers, tears soaking into his skin.

He wraps his arms around her back. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He buries a hand in her hair, massaging her scalp gently.

“I’ll call to schedule a consult in the morning.”

She curls into herself, making her body as small as she can get it. Sobs wrack through her, one after another. Tears flood over her cheeks and nose, pooling against Steve’s body. Her nails dig into any flesh she can find, clinging to her sanity. She gasps and splutters unintelligible remarks. Things about “just one,” “not fair,” and “doesn’t make sense” stream out of her unrestrained mouth. Somewhere, deep down, she knew this was inevitable too.

“I just wanted one more,” she cries. “Just one. I did my share of awful things during the war, but this- Steve, it’s not fair.”

He runs his hands up and down her arms and peppers her forehead with kisses. “You’ll be twice as good a mother to this one, then.”

“We’re not bad people. Just- one,” she gasps, unable to squeeze any other words out of her throat.

Steve’s grip tightens around her. He clears his throat and nuzzles into her hair. Tears moisten his own cheeks as he whispers over and over, “I’m so sorry.”

* * *

Peggy leans into Steve’s side, staring absently at the wall across the waiting room. “Are you sure Sam will be alright?”

“Honey,” Steve kisses her hair, “Edwin lives for babysitting Sam, and she’s probably having so much fun with Tony, she hasn’t even noticed we’re gone.”

Peggy bites at her thumbnail, snarling at the chipped polish. She hasn’t bothered touching it up since she hasn’t been at work. And she just bites it off again anyway. “But it’s a week, Steve. She’s never been gone that long before.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “she probably won’t even remember us when we pick her up.”

Peggy swats Steve’s elbow, but lets a wet laugh slip out. When her smile fades, that thousand-yard stare returns. She’s had months to prepare for this, but it didn’t matter. There is no preparing for this. She’s not even thirty-one yet, married less than ten years with a single child. She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t have to.

Steve’s arm tightens, pulling her in closer. When a nurse calls her back, Peggy stands with a deep breath and drags Steve along behind her. They’re shown to a small, white-washed waiting room that reeks of bleach. The bright, white lights make the plain walls even more ominous. The nurse runs through Peggy’s medical history with unfamiliar coldness. Peggy nods along, noting her allergy to nickel. After taking Peggy’s vitals, the nurse instructs her to change into the gown at the end of the bed and get comfortable.

After dropping her corset and garter belt to the ground, Peggy glances into the mirror. Her hand falls to her lower abdomen, the other combing through her hair. Her lip trembles, and her legs begin to shake. Steve steps forward, supporting her weight, and walks her to sit on the edge of the bed. She pulls her legs over Steve’s lap and presses herself as far into him as she can manage. Her arms wrap around his neck, tightening almost to a stranglehold.

“Steve, I don’t want to do this.”

“Well,” he whispers, stroking her back, “I can’t make you.”

“No,” her breath wheezes through her swollen throat, “I need to.”

It feels like an eternity before Peggy calms enough to get into the hospital gown. Detachment was much easier in the field. She never thought coping with the death of a close friend would be easier than a routine surgery. She never thought she’d be one to break down over losing her hope for a family. Children always seemed like something she would do because that’s what life was, not something she would ever want. Truly _want_ with every piece of her soul.

Steve combs through her hair and brushes tears off her face as the doctor starts the anesthesia. It had taken half an hour to convince the anesthesiologist that Peggy had in fact consented to the surgery. Her red, puffy eyes and blank stare made the story a tough sell. She doesn’t remember much after the ordeal besides Steve telling her everything would be fine.

When she wakes, really wakes, with a clear head, Steve is tucked neatly beside her in the bed, reading a book. He offers her a small smile, but she turns away, taking his hand in hers.

“When can we go home?”

“Now that you’re awake,” he sighs, “Probably an hour or so. They’ll want to make sure you’re okay.”

Peggy slides a hand over her stomach, shifting to lift her gown. Steve stills her with a hand on her hip.

“Let’s try not to pop your stitches for at least a day?” He lifts an eyebrow at her.

“It hurts,” she groans, sinking back into the bed.

He nods. “I’ll go find someone.”

Steve leaves the room silently. Peggy uses the time alone to finish hiking up her gown and get a look at the stitches. A thin vertical line from her pelvis to her belly button, skin died yellow, sutures tugging at her tight skin. It wasn’t small by any stretch of the word, but considering what it meant, she expected more. Jagged edges and blood. Bruising and tearing. A gaping hole. That’s how it feels.

She tugs the gown back down, disappointment flooding from her head to her toes. Seconds later, Steve returns with a nurse who nonchalantly adjusts Peggy’s IV drip.

“Will this put me back to sleep?”

The nurse nods. “Maybe. Most of your meds will make you drowsy. You should be prepared to sleep through most of the week.”

“I’d like to go home as soon as possible,” Peggy looks into the nurse’s eyes.

Her eyes soften. They’re nearly the same age. In another life, they could have been coworkers or classmates, both living simple lives with their families. Sending children on playdates, having drinks after birthday parties. The kinds of things women with similar-aged children do.

“I understand,” she smiles. For the first time since arriving that morning, Peggy sees a hint of empathy, but only for a moment.

Within an hour, Steve is loading Peggy into their car. She doesn’t say a word on the drive home aside from asking Steve to get more tea when he picks up her prescriptions. She falls asleep while she waits, and Steve ends up carrying her into the house when they get home. The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur. She’s in and out the whole day and can’t even remember the soup Steve made for dinner. He offers to move the TV into the bedroom again, but she declines. Moving back and forth is the only exercise she’s allowed.

She tosses and turns all night, and by morning she’s exhausted. Unable to sleep, she makes herself oatmeal for breakfast. When her tea is ready, she takes her antibiotics, skipping the painkillers. She pushes her pill bottles to the back of the counter and takes her breakfast to the couch. When Steve wakes up, he finds her curled against the arm of the couch, nursing her tea.

“I was worried about you.” He sits besides her, patting her knee.

She faces him, expression still blank. “I want to bring Sam home.”

“No, absolutely not.” He shakes his head, eyes wide. “Your stitches are too fresh. You’re exhausted. You’re barely managing the pain.”

She rubs her stomach, wincing. “I’ll be fine.”

“Ice or heat?” Steve calls over his shoulder, walking to the kitchen.

“Neither.” She leans her head against the couch.

He returns with his coffee and a heat pad. “It’s not about how you feel. It’ll help the healing process.”

“Steve, please.” She takes the heat pack begrudgingly and presses it against her aching abdomen. “I need to see her.”

He takes a deep breath, studying her face and nods. “If you still feel fine at dinner, I’ll call Edwin.”

Peggy smiles, shoulders relaxing, and sinks into Steve’s side. She lets her eyes close, resting her head on Steve’s chest. Even without the painkillers, she’s exhausted.

She wakes up curled on top of Steve’s chest, stomach throbbing. He must have fallen asleep listening to a radio program. She can hear an ad interrupting the story. With a groan, she heaves herself off the couch, the sudden sting across her abdomen nearly driving her to her knees. She falls forward, catching herself on the coffee table without waking Steve. She stumbles into the kitchen, cradling her tender tummy and makes a glass of water. Eyeing her pills in the corner, she takes her water to the bedroom. Taking her book from the side table, she stretches out in bed. The lingering ache is bearable as long as she doesn’t move. As she finishes a chapter, she finds herself reading lines three times over in order to focus.

She turns the page, flinching at the movement, and groans into her book. She folds the corner of her page down and sets the book aside. Maybe a nap will help. Without the distraction of her story, the pain above her hips grows to a steady throb. She turns over, trying to find a more comfortable position. Every movement sends searing pain through her body. Finally, she rolls off the bed to retrieve an ice pack. The strain of standing draws a strangled squeal from her throat. She leans into the wall, making her way around the room to the door. Each step sends a jolt up her legs, stabbing further into her core. By the time she reaches the hall, she’s certain the incision has ripped open. She staggers away from the wall, collapsing to her knees with a whimper. The impact of the fall shoots through her, forcing a cry from deep in her chest.

She sinks slowly to the ground, wrapping her arms around herself. Steve races to meet her, and quickly brushes the hair out of her face.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, “what happened?”

Sweat beads on her forehead. She squeezes her eyes shut, fighting back the bile rising in her throat.

“Is it time for your medicine?”

She shakes her head weakly. “Don’t.”

“What do you mean? When did you take them this morning?” When she doesn’t react, Steve goes rigid. Heat creeps into his cheeks. “Peggy, when did you take your pain meds?”

Writhing on the floor, she couldn’t answer even if she wanted to.

Steve runs to the kitchen and grabs her pain pills and water. “Take these.” He kneels in front of her, pills sitting in his palm.

She pushes his hand away, taking deep, jagged breaths, and eases herself to lean against the wall.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Steve shoves his hand back to her face. “You just had a major surgery.”

She turns her face away, for breaths between clenched teeth.

“I can’t make you take these, but I won’t let Sam see you this way.” He rocks back on his heels. “If you want her to come home, you have to keep up with your meds.”

Peggy opens her eyes, briefly, tears spilling over the sides and flooding her cheeks. She takes the pills from his hand and swallows them dry.

“Thank you,” he whispers, scooping her into his arms and carrying her back to bed. “I’ll be right back with some ice.”

When he returns, he slides into the bed next her and holds the ice pack over her incision. He pulls her into his chest, and combs through her hair, whispering soothingly into her ear. Over the next half hour, her trembling subsides, and Steve replaces the ice with a heat pad. Her whimpering turns to ragged breaths and, soon, exhausted panting.

“Peggy, what were you thinking?” Steve drops his head to Peggy’s.

She turns away, sinking into herself. “I want it to hurt.”

“Don’t you think the surgery was punishment enough?” Steve’s voice cracks.

“That’s not-” Peggy chokes back a sob. “Steve, we just lost-”

He brushes his thumb up her cheek, whispering, “I know.”

“It should hurt,” she gasps.

“Doesn’t it?” He shakes his head. “Peg, I know you feel it, too. The loss. The pit in your stomach? That hole in the middle of your chest that gets so big sometimes it keeps you from breathing?”

She nods, smearing tears across his shirt. “I don’t want that hurt. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Peggy, I-” he leans down, resting his mouth on the top of her head. “I wish I could change it. If I’d known, I never would have-” The rest of his thought is choked by his closing throat. “I just want you to be happy.”

She pulls further into him, burying her face in his chest. Letting his scent fill her mind and wrap around her body. She claws at his shirt, the ache in her chest only growing. His arms tighten around her, cheek pressing into her hair. Neither of them knows how much time passes. Time seems to stand still, dragging on and flying by at the same time.

By the time the doorbell sounds through the house, Steve’s shirt is soaked through. Peggy’s hair is matted to her head from Steve’s tears. He squeezes her close to him before standing to answer the door. She smiles at his puffy eyes and wipes her own nose. By the time she regains control of her lungs, tiny feet patter down the hall. Sam clambers onto the bed before Steve can catch her.

“Mommy!” She beams up at Peggy, curling into her side.

Peggy’s eyes crinkle at Sam. “My love, did you have fun with the Jarvises?”

“Tony came over to spend the night, and…” Sam nods, jabbering.

Peggy wraps an arm around Sam, scooping Sam into her lap. Sam latches onto Peggy’s arm, story unhindered. Peggy glances at Steve who leans against the doorway. His lips twitch up into a smile, eyes sparkling at Sam’s shrill laughter. When he meets her eyes, Peggy smiles, her heart swelling to fill a portion of the hole in her chest. She turns back to Sam, who hasn’t stopped chattering since she ran through the door.


	4. ...And a Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is 4 years old. The Rogers are attending a Christmas party at the Starks' and Sam falls into the pool. Written from Steve and Peggy's perspective; Steve's is first, Peggy second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Steve has a fairly intense flashback. There is a good deal of cursing in this one.  
Not a happy story. Kind of intense, kind of emotional. Very brief cute scene at the end.

Steve and Peggy talk with a senator and his wife, while Sam clings tightly to Steve’s leg. She’s both amazed and intimidated by all the lights and people. And she hates her Christmas dress; it’s too heavy to run in. That was probably the idea behind it. She scowls at the realization.

There are only a few other children scattered throughout the expansive Stark estate, and she only knows one of them. She peeks out from behind Steve’s leg, scouting the room and all adjoining rooms for any sign of him.

When Steve feels the pressure around his knee release, he looks down to find Sam hurrying off. He takes a step to catch up and grabs her arm. “Where are you going?”

She points. “To look at the Christmas tree with Tony.”

Steve scans the room and nods, releasing her. “Please ask before running off like that. Especially in crowded places.”

Sam nods her agreement and attempts to run after Tony.

Steve returns to Peggy who has finished her conversation with the senator and picked one up with one of Howard’s research partners.

“Steve, Dr. Newcomb.” She gestures between the men.

The doctor shakes Steve’s hand firmly. “Please, call me Ryan."

Steve nods. “Ryan, what are you working on?”

“Currently?” he chuckles, “refilling my glass.”

Peggy laughs, nudging Steve. “I like him.”

Steve smiles, “Then, I propose we take this conversation out to the bar.” With no objections, Steve leads Peggy outside with a hand on her back.

After getting fresh drinks, the group settles in near one of the outdoor heaters Howard set up. It’s louder outside and crowded, but the fresh air is nice. With the heaters, the night is perfectly cool.

Steve whirls around when he hears a faint splash. So quiet among the chaos, no one else seemed to notice it. Too small to be an adult.

“Steve, wha-” Peggy asks, alarmed.

“Where’s Sam?” He doesn't wait for an answer. It doesn't matter; there's a child in the water. Who cares which one it is?

As he makes his way through the crowd, gently pushing people aside, a scream breaks through the music and conversation.

“Daddy!” The voice is shrill and breathless. Desperate. Then it’s gone.

Steve stomach knots, and his heart pounds faster. He bounds through the mass, shoving people out of his way and hurtling over those who had fallen trying to move out of his path. They’d be sore tomorrow, but he didn’t care.

“Sam!” Peggy’s voice comes from several feet behind him.

Steve can hear her quickly catching up with him. He feels her approach behind him seconds before he dives in.

_Fuck. No. Not now. _The moment he hits the icy water, the image Steve spent decades pushing away flashes to the surface of his memory. Shattered windshield, water rushing into the cockpit, buttons flashing, switches and levers broken, red emergency lights flickering.

_Sam. Save Sam._ He forces his eyes open. The water is blurred red-orange, sending his heart rate through the roof._ Just Christmas lights. _

He sees Sam floundering, caught up in the excess fabric of her dress. The more she struggles, the faster she sinks. He dives after her, grabbing her wrist just before she hits the bottom. He pulls her into his chest. Hearing a muffled scream from above the water, he becomes painfully aware of the low drum of voices murmuring above him.

Alarms blaring, the hum of failing jet engines._ Just save Sam. _Darkness closing in, sinking into the ice, can’t breathe. _Fuck._

He pushes off the pool floor as hard as he can. With one arm wrapped around Sam, he propels them both upward. Sam coughs wildly as they break the surface. Steve gasps for air but doesn’t stop moving. Smoke? Electrical fire.

Sam wraps her arms around his neck, her grip weak.

“Steve.” Peggy’s voice is choked.

Peggy. Peggy’s face, black and white. Old compass. Falling, fast. Sinking, slow. _Can’t get out._

Steve swims toward the shallow end of the pool. _Get out of the water. Save Sam. _He closes his eyes tightly and shakes his head. Lights flashing, sirens blaring, engines dying, jet sinking, water rushing, darkness closing. _So cold._ _Can’t_ _breathe_. _Have to get out._

He wades through the water, pushing Sam’s head down into his shoulder, and climbs up the steps. His surroundings are a blur. All that matters is saving Sam. When his feet are on solid ground, he takes off running into the house. _Can’t get out. Get to the light. _

Falling, crashing, sinking. Lights, alarms, water. Falling, crashing, sinking. Broken glass, flashing buttons, freezing water. Crashing, lights, alarms, water, Peggy. Sinking, darkness, cold, can’t breathe. _Have to stay out of the water. Have to get warm._

“Steve?” He hears Peggy’s voice through radio static.

_Fuck. Go away._

“Steve, let her go,” Peggy pleads with him.

_She’s insane. _He tightens his grip around Sam. She’s trembling and cold to the touch.

“I can’t. She’ll freeze,” he whispers. Steve can barely hear himself over the alarms and shifting ice.

“No, she won’t.” Peggy’s voice is even, but urgent. “Let me help.”

A radio crackles. The alarms grow louder. Shifting ice. Groaning metal. Sinking, fast. The darkness under the water flashes through Steve’s memory. _Got to climb higher._

Crashing. “There’s not enough time.” Crashing. Crashing again.

“Steve, it’s over. You came home.”

Sirens. Flashing. Compass. Smoke. Radio. Groaning. Water. Glass.

“Steve, you have to trust me.” Her voice is slightly louder, but more cautious. “Steve, look at me.”

He opens his eyes, unsure when he shut them. Peggy’s standing several feet away. Full color. Suddenly aware of his labored breathing and rapid heartbeat, he releases Sam. She wanders to Peggy who ushers her past.

Shattering glass sends Steve reeling again. He doesn’t even know who scoops Sam up. He shuts his eyes, grinding the heels of his hands into his forehead. _So fucking cold._

Shattered windshield, rush of water, blinking lights, flashing alarms. Crashing. Smoke, fire, melting ice, groaning metal. Sinking.

Silence.

_Jasmine? _

He opens his eyes slowly. Peggy is kneeling in front of him, their eyes level. He grabs an arm and pulls her close, burying his face in her neck. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, focusing on her scent.

Jasmine. And orange. No more smoke.

He wraps his hand around the back of her head and runs his fingers through her hair, gently massaging her scalp. He feels her arms tighten around him. “I don’t know what to do.”

He gulps, mouth and throat dry. “Talk to me.” His voice shakes. “Please.”

“It’s okay, darling. You’re home. With me.” She curls her fingers around the back of his neck. “You’re safe.”

Slowly but steadily, the sirens fade, the creaking quiets, the radio static ceases. Until all that’s left is Peggy’s voice and scent. He pulls her onto his lap and hugs her close. “You’re so warm.”

“Good.” Peggy presses in tighter. “You’re safe, darling. I’m here. Sam’s okay. Everything’s alright.”

Steve opens his eyes, examining his surroundings. He’s still breathing quickly, and his heart rate is too high, but the visions of the sinking jet fade. The haze surrounding the Christmas lights disappears and the room comes into focus. “Where’s Sam?” His throat is still dry, and his voice hoarse.

“Wrapped in a blanket on the couch. Probably asleep.”

“What time is it?” He leans his head against the wall. When had he sat down?

“A little after midnight.” She lays her head on his shoulder.

“Jesus, we went outside to get drinks at nine.” He’s both irritated and embarrassed. “We should get home.”

“Sure. Mr. Jarvis wrangled up a change of clothes for you. They’ll be snug, but they’re dry.”

Steve looks himself over, realizing for the first time he's soaked. And where is his jacket?

“I’ll warm the car up while you change.” She helps him stand.

When they get home, Steve changes into his own pajamas and carries Sam in from the car. The three of them settle in Steve and Peggy’s bed. Steve pulls Peggy into his side and hugs Sam to his chest. _So warm_.

He kisses them both on the top of the head before closing his eyes. Peaceful, at least for now.

* * *

Steve and Peggy talk with a senator and his wife, while Sam clings tightly to Steve’s leg. Peggy is unfazed when Steve hurries off to chase Sam.

“Yes, Senator, I do remember your support in the founding of SHIELD; however, I am no longer the head of that project. I have no intentions of being caught as the liaison between Congress and the agency. So, I suggest, if you have a request, you take it up directly with Director Barnes.” With that, Peggy turns away from the senator and quickly seeks out another conversation partner.

Anyone.

“Oh, hello.” She stops the next man walking by. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you at one of Mr. Stark’s affairs before.”

“Dr. Ryan Newcomb,” he holds out his hand, “I’m new to Stark Industries.”

She shakes his hand. “Agent Peggy Rogers. I-”

“You are married to _the_ Captain America.”

Peggy rolls her eyes. “Well, I prefer to use my own accomplishments in introductions, but yes.”

“I apologize, ma’am.” He blushes. “Just a bit of a fan.”

She smiles sweetly. “Don’t look now, but he’s coming this way.”

When Steve arrives, she introduces them properly. “Steve, Dr. Newcomb.”

The doctor shakes Steve’s hand firmly. “Please, call me Ryan."

Steve nods. “Ryan, what are you working on?”

“Currently?” he chuckles, “refilling my glass.”

Peggy laughs, nudging Steve. “I like him.”

Steve smiles, “Then, I propose we take this conversation out to the bar.”

Peggy leads the trio onto the patio. Steve’s gentle touch on her back lets her know he’s following. They get a fresh round of drinks and stand near one of the heaters. Peggy can barely hear the men over the din of the crowd. 

When Steve whirls around on high alert, Peggy scans the horde for danger. “Steve, wha-”

“Where’s Sam?” He interrupts her.

“Inside with Tony.” But he’s already gone.

As she watches him carefully pick his way through the crowd, she hears a scream.

“Daddy!” There’s no mistaking the voice.

“Sam!” Peggy screams, immediately running after Steve.

Moving through the path Steve had just cleared, it was easy to catch up with him. She can see him jumping over furniture and pushing people aside. He rips his suit jacket off, seams popping. He dives in, and she runs to the edge of the pool. She throws her shoes to the side and takes a step toward the water.

A hand on her arm stops her. “You’ll go into shock the instant you hit the water. Then Steve will have two rescues to complete.” Mr. Jarvis somehow manages to give Peggy a look that’s both concerned and forceful. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

She drops to her knees to get a better view into the dark water. She curls her fingers over the ledge and leans out as far as she can. Sam is sinking quickly, struggling with the weight of her dress. _That goddamn dress. It was supposed to keep her out of trouble._

She lets out a cry of relief when Steve grabs her. _She’s going to be okay._

He brings her to the surface, gasping for air. Sam splutters, coughing up water, no doubt.

Steve doesn’t swim to the edge. He doesn’t bring Sam to Peggy to warm up and dry off.

“Steve.” Peggy calls, concerned. When he doesn’t react, she tries again. “Steve, what the bloody hell are you doing?”

She stands and follows along as Steve swims toward the shallow end of the pool. When he can stand again, he pulls Sam in closer. _At least he’s trying to keep her warm._ She meets him at the stairs, but he pushes past her.

“Can’t get out.” His voice is empty.

He runs into the parlor, and Peggy chases after. When she approaches the door, she can see Steve sitting curled in the corner, still cradling Sam to his chest. _Is he talking to himself?_

“Steve?” She enters the room timidly, waving everyone out.

Howard follows Peggy inside. “Jarvis, clear out this room and the next, would you?”

Peggy can see Sam shivering. “Steve, let her go.” If they don’t get her dry soon, she’ll go into shock.

He pulls her in closer with a possessive growl. “I can’t. She’ll freeze.”

“No, she won’t.” Realizing he’s stuck in a flashback, Peggy stops approaching. The last thing she wants is to startle him. “Bloody fuck.”

Howard chuckles, “Peg, I think you’re mixing your cultures.”

“Shut up.” She rubs her hands down her face and squeezes her eyes shut. _What does he do when I have nightmares? Remember something!_ She turns to Steve. “Let me help.”

“There’s not enough time. I got to put her in the water.”

Howard makes a choking sound.

Peggy swallows the lump in her throat. “Steve, it’s over. You came home.”

She glances at Howard. His expression is strained. He listened to the recordings with Peggy a hundred times trying to find any hint at the location of the crash site. She takes a few steps toward Steve.

“Steve, you have to trust me.” When he doesn’t react, she says more forcefully, “Steve, look at me.”

He looks up. His eyes seem to clear. He eases his grip on Sam, and she stumbles her way to Peggy.

Peggy cups Sam’s face and looks her over quickly. She waves Jarvis over to get her.

Someone in another room drops a glass, and Steve is gone again. Peggy crosses the room as quickly as she can without startling him. He’s growing more distressed by the minute. She places every footstep carefully, turning back once to check on Sam. She and Jarvis were gone, hopefully finding dry clothes.

She kneels in front of him and waits. He opens his eyes slowly. He jerks her by the arm, causing her to tumble onto his chest. He leans into her neck and breathes in, relaxing into her.

She wraps her arms around him and holds him close. She can feel him playing with her hair. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Talk to me, please.” His voice shakes.

She inclines her head slightly. “It’s okay, darling. You’re home. With me.” She massages the back of his neck. “You’re safe.”

She takes a deep breath, looking behind her when the door opens. Sam walks in holding Jarvis’s hand and wearing a set of Tony’s pajamas. Her hair is still wet, but she’s wrapped in a thick blanket. “Don’t worry, love. You’re safe now.” She motions to the couch. Jarvis brings Sam around to sit down.

She turns her attention back to Steve. “I’m right here, and I’m not letting you go. It’s alright. You came back to me, and we’re happy.”

She continues soothing him until he tugs at her waist. She leans to the side, sitting across his legs.

He pulls her into his chest. “You’re so warm.”

“Good.” Peggy presses herself against him with a smile. She can feel her dress soaking through. “You’re safe, darling. I’m here. Sam’s okay. Everything’s alright.” She didn’t realize how fast his heart was beating until now. She can feel it against her ribs.

“Where’s Sam?” He croaks.

“Wrapped in a blanket on the couch. Probably asleep.”

“What time is it?” He sounds exhausted

“A little after midnight.”

“Jesus, we went outside to get drinks at nine.” He answers breathless, dropping his head. “We should get home.”

“Sure.” She stands. “Mr. Jarvis wrangled up a change of clothes for you. They’ll be snug, but they’re dry.”

“I’ll warm the car up while you change.” She helps him stand.

When they get home, Peggy changes into pajamas and chuckles when she sees Steve laying on the bed with Sam on his chest. She curls up beside him, wrapping her legs around one of his. He kisses her head, and she closes eyes.

She takes a deep breath. She may get some rest, but sleep is out of the question unless she wants to relive the two-week search for Steve. _And the last thing I want is to lose him again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I had fun writing this one.  
Let me know what you think.


	5. ...and a Sleepless Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam struggles with her self-identity and, also, cuts her own hair. Much drama follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the deepest look into Peggy's past I've written so far. It's sort of written from her POV, and offers a great deal of insight into her mindset. It happens shortly before the next chapter, so you can start to see their marriage stretch. A lot of soft Peggy, some Steve being human, a little humor.

Sam loops her thumbs under her backpack straps as she makes her way to the front of the bus, bag bouncing against the back of her knees. She keeps her head down; last week she got in trouble for punching the second grader who pulled her hair. He got a black eye, and she lost recess for three days.

She stumbles down the steps and trudges up the driveway, keeping her eyes on the ground. Steve’s greeting hardly earns a grunt and a shrug. She nudges past Steve and turns onto the sidewalk when she’s yanked back by her backpack.

“Excuse me.” Steve raises an eyebrow. “I said ‘hey, Baby.’”

“Hi.” She scowls up at him and waits to be released.

Steve squints at her. “Did you get in another fight?”

She shakes her head and looks back down.

Steve takes her hand and walks beside her to the house. “Then what’s wrong, Baby?”

Her shoulders drop as she mumbles, “I don’t have any friends.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve opens the door. “You have all kinds of friends.”

“Not anymore.” She drops Steve’s hand and continues through the door.

Steve watches her drag her book bag to the kitchen and slump into a chair at the table. She pulls her notebook from the bag and drops it on the table.

Steve settles in the chair next to her and lays a hand on her elbow before she can reach for a pencil. “Baby, what does that mean?”

“No one likes me.” She pulls away from him gently, crossing her arms. “Not really.”

Steve takes a deep breath, clenching his jaw. “Baby, that can’t be true.”

“I just want to do my homework,” she sniffles, avoiding eye contact.

Steve clears his throat and tips her chin up. “I like you.”

The corners of her mouth quirk up, and she huffs out a quiet giggle.

He kisses her forehead. “Mommy too.”

“To the end of the line?”

“End of the line.” His eyes crinkle when he smiles.

Sam blinks away the moisture in her eyes and reaches for a pencil. After opening her notebook, she glances at the page and pauses. Smirking to herself, she glances up at Steve’s troubled expression. “Can you help me?”

His lips spread into a grin. “Of course.” He leans over her shoulder and points at the numbers on the page before holding his fingers up.

He doesn’t need to know she’s already answered the first three problems in her head. She counts them slowly, with a purposeful crease across her forehead. Each of Steve’s praises is met with a shrill giggle. She eases through her problem set, snuggling deeper into Steve’s side with every answer.

When they finish her homework, Sam packs up her notebook and drops her backpack by the front door. Steve helps Sam bathe and passes her a few bath toys. He lays her towel on the back of the toilet and walks to the kitchen, leaving the bathroom door open.

He takes out an array of pots and pans, heating them over the stove. After chopping several different vegetables, he throws them into a sauté pan with a heap of butter. Turning his attention to the ceramic frying pan, Steve drops two large steaks into the pan and smirks at the sizzle. Sam can eat half of one, and there will be enough for Peggy whenever she gets home. After dumping the vegetables in the pan with the meat, he slides everything into the oven. As he takes a salad base from the refrigerator, a shriek pierces the air.

Steve spins on his heel and sprints toward the bathroom. He steps through the door, assessing the situation. Sam sits on the floor with a hand pressed against her jaw.

“Oh,” Steve breathes out, “good God.”

Kinked, golden copper curls coat the floor, small specks of white tile showing through. A small knife lays at Sam’s feet, and blood speckles the collar of her nightgown. She looks up at Steve with wide eyes.

Steve huffs out a breath. “Your mother’s going to kill me.”

“It hurts,” she whines, dropping her hand.

Blood drips down her neck from a long, thin cut along her cheek. Steve rushes in and tilts her head to get a better look. He wipes his thumb across the slice, rubbing the blood away, but more oozes out immediately after.

“Sam, what did you do?” Steve takes a towel from the cabinet and presses it firmly against Sam’s jaw.

She winces, pulling away from Steve’s touch. He lays his free hand on the other side of her face and holds her in place. “Baby, talk to me.”

Sam drops her gaze. “I didn’t mean to.” Her words are muddled by the pressure on her face.

“Nuh uh.” He tilts her face up. “Look at me. You hurt yourself. You don’t get to keep secrets.”

She sniffles as tears leak out of the corners of her eyes. “Jason has a birthday party tomorrow, and all the boys are invited.”

Steve gives a small nod and allows her to tilt her head away. “All your friends.”

“I thought Jason liked me.” Sam rubs her nose with another sniffle.

Steve suppresses a smile. “Do you…_like_ him?”

She scrunches her nose. “Daddy, that’s gross. He’s my friend.” Her face falls. “I thought.”

“You weren’t invited.” Steve’s voice drops as he pulls the towel away.

She shakes her head.

“I’m sorry, Baby.” He watches the cut, wiping a small drop of blood away before taking a step back. “Who gave you that knife anyway?”

She stoops to pick it up and carefully folds the blade back into the hand grip. “Mrs. Jarvis.”

Steve shakes his head and chuckles, “Come on. Dinner’s almost ready. You can set the table.”

Sam follows him down the hall, head hanging. Her feet drag through the carpet as she runs a hand along the wall beside her. “When is Mommy coming home?”

“Late, probably.” Steve shrugs, turning into the kitchen.

Sam slides a drawer open. “She’s always late.”

“Sam, that’s not fair.” Steve’s stony glare makes Sam shrink back. “She can’t control the weather.”

Snatching silverware from the drawer, Sam turns to the table. “Can I stay up?”

“I don’t know,” Steve sighs. “Maybe for a little while.”

Sam lays out two place settings beside each other and faces Steve, toeing at the tile floor. “Is she going to be angry?”

Steve rolls his shoulders “I... don’t- She might- Maybe,” he sighs. “It’ll grow back. She didn’t really like your hair anyway. Said it’s too unruly. And Irish.” He cracks a smile.

Sam grins back. “I like being Irish.”

“Of course, you do.” Steve holds out his hand. “Do you want to help mix the salad?”

She runs across the kitchen and throws her arms up with a small hop. Steve chuckles and kneels in front of her.

“You could have at least evened it out.” He tugs at the long section of hair on her left side.

She swats his hand away and purses her lips to the side.

Wrapping his arms around her, he gathers her asymmetrical hair in his hands. He slides a brown hair tie off his wrist and wraps it around the choppy ponytail. When it snaps, Steve groans and pulls the tie off his other wrist and wrangles her hair into a low ponytail.

“There.” He taps her nose. “Now, you’re ready to cook.”

She lifts her arms and hops again, her smile dropping when Steve grabs her wrists. She jerks her arms free before he can examine her hands.

“They’re clean,” she whines, dropping to the floor. “I want to help.”

Steve raises an eyebrow before resigning. “Alright. Get up.” He bends down and slides his hands under her arms.

Not a moment after being set on the counter, Sam tips the large wooden bowl to look inside. Steve calmly pushes on the opposite side, leveling the bowl on the counter. He gives her a pointed look before turning to the counter on his left to chop a tomato.

He works quickly, sliding the blade smoothly through the fruit. After finishing half, he pauses. Reaching an open hand behind him, he quips, “Can’t take my eyes off you for a second.”

Sam reluctantly drops an open bag of chopped pecans into his hand. She lets out a huff and crosses her arms. While waiting for Steve, she tips the bowl to get another look and plucks a piece of bell pepper out. She taps her feet against the cabinet underneath and sways back and forth to the tune in her head while crunching away on bits of peppers.

Steve turns back to Sam, cutting board in hand, and narrows his eyes when he sees her chewing. He scrapes the tomatoes into the salad bowl and turns to the refrigerator. When he returns, he holds out a block of cheese. Sam lifts her legs and lets Steve take the cheese grater from the drawer. He passes Sam the grater and takes the cheese back.

“Samantha Michelle!” Steve glares at her, pointing to the bite taken out of the corner.

“Daddy, I’m hungry,” she struggles to talk past the clump of cheese.

“The salad will be done in two minutes, and the rest right after.” Steve takes a drawn-out sigh. “What has gotten into you?”

“Mommy says I’m growing.”

“A growing pain in my- booty.” He chuckles to himself. If Nat could hear him now.

“I’m not even touching your booty!” she squeals.

He cracks a smile, shaking his head. “That’s not- it’s a figure of speech, Baby.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means I love you.” He kisses her forehead. “Now, are you going to grate the cheese or not?”

She beams up at him, wiggling closer to the bowl. She drags the grater back and forth across the cheese block, swinging her legs in rhythm with the motion. When Steve tells her stop, she reluctantly hands the grater back, shoulders slumping.

“Now, we mix it.” He makes a little show of tossing the salad with his hands. “Can you handle that?”

She nods energetically and leans over the bowl. Glancing at Steve, she takes two handfuls the leafy mix. He nods in approval, waiting for her to toss it.

She doesn't disappoint.

Vegetables fly into the air, showering Steve with lettuce and cheese crumbles. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes slowly. He opens his eyes, dusting off his shoulders. “I think we’re done here.” He sets Sam back on the floor and backs away from the counter before shaking his hair out.

Sam scampers to the table and shimmies her chair out just enough for her to squeeze in. Dropping to her hands and knees, she crawls under the table and squirms up into her chair. Steve sets her bowl of salad down with a chuckle. He shouldn’t let her crawl around on the floor before dinner, but it’s just so damn cute.

While they eat, Sam recounts her day; she skips the part about the party invitations. Happily walking Steve through what she learned in Art when he asks. He nods along, asking about how she learned to mix colors. “Wow. Do you think you could show me?”

Sam nods energetically.

Steve tells her about his day at home. She left her Colorforms out. Again. “Next time I find them, I’m putting them in the trash.” An empty threat, he knows. It’s one of the few “girl appropriate” toys she owns.

Sam nods, teary-eyed, remembering the jump rope Peggy got tangled in once. Sam didn’t even get a warning for that one. Peggy broke her wrist, and it was gone.

Steve leans back in his seat, watching Sam push her vegetables around. She’ll put them away for the next few days, at least. Then, Steve will be picking them up again.

“I thought you were hungry.”

Sam’s head snaps up. “I am.” She takes a bite of kale so big, her cheeks puff like a chipmunk's.

Steve sets his fork down and lays his hands on the table, fingers interlocked. “Sam, what’s wrong?”

She looks down at the table, chewing somberly. “I just miss Mommy.” Because she knows. She knows boys are mean. She knows how it feels to be left out. She knows what it means not to be wanted. She knows what to say.

“Hey, how about we go for a little ride after dinner?”

Sam glances up, eyes wide. “Can I drive?”

“One day, baby,” Steve snickers. “I promise.”

“Fine.” Sam hurries through the rest of dinner and sets her plate next to the sink.

Steve fills the sink with warm water and begins scrubbing the dishes. “Go get your jacket and boots on.”

Steve smiles to himself. He’d bought similar for gear Morgan while they were still working out all the kinks of the “time heist.” Pepper thought it was great, but Tony probably never would have let her near that “death trap.”

As Steve drains the sink, he can hear Sam clomping down the hallway, still learning to walk in boots. She turns the corner hugging Steve’s boots to her chest. She waits, bouncing on her toes, for him to dry his hands. He takes the boots from Sam and sits on the couch to lace them up.

“Daddy,” Sam plops onto the floor in front of him. “do you think Mrs. Jarvis could make me a dress to match your suit.”

Steve grins, “She’s been able to make everything I’ve drawn up so far.”

“Can I help you draw it?”

“Of course, baby.” He stands, scooping her off the floor. If Wilson ever found out Steve stayed in the past to be the fashion designer for a four-year-old, he’d never live it down. He sets Sam down in the garage and tells her to get her helmet.

“You don’t wear a helmet,” she pouts.

“I can reach the handlebars.” He nudges her toward the back wall and begins pushing his motorcycle out of the garage.

Sam totters up, arms outstretched to keep balanced. She juts her chin out and looks up at Steve. He takes a knee and fastens the chin strap.

After taking a seat, he slides back and pulls Sam onto the seat in front of him. “Just a quick ride.”

Sam squeals as Steve speeds out of the driveway.

When they return, Peggy is closing the garage door with one hand, duffle bag in the other. Sam slides off as soon as the bike is stopped.

“Mommy!” She sprints toward Peggy, jumping at the last minute.

Peggy has to drop her bag to catch Sam. She stumbles back a step, when she’s knocked in the head by Sam’s helmet. “You’re getting too big to surprise me like that, love.”

She smiles at Steve while setting Sam down.

“There’s steak for you in the fridge,” Steve says, picking twigs out of Peggy’s hair.

“Fantastic. I’m starving.” Peggy rubs her head. “But I really need a shower first.”

Steve looks at her mud drenched clothes and agrees with a laugh. Looking at the mud now on Sam’s nightgown, he sends her to change pajamas. He takes Peggy’s bag and follows her into the house.

“Daddy,” Sam calls from her room, “I can’t find any.”

Peggy snickers and takes her bag. “Go.”

Steve heads to Sam’s room and pulls a nightgown from the first drawer he opens. He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at Sam. She sinks into her shoulders with a small grin.

“What the bloody-” Peggy’s shout echoes through the house. “Steven!”

Steve looks at Sam. “I think she knows.”

Peggy storms through the door in her black robe. “What happened?”

Steve sighs and lets Sam’s hair down. “She cut her own hair after her bath.”

“You just let her?”

“I was making dinner.”

Sam looks at her feet. “I’m sorry.”

“Just-” Peggy takes a deep breath and pinches between her eyebrows. “Just go to bed. I need to talk with your father.”

“But, Mommy, the sun is sti-”

“It wasn’t a request, Samantha.” Peggy rubs her eyes. “Now.”

Sam hugs Steve’s neck and crawls into bed, head hanging.

“Good night, baby,” he sighs.

She answers with a quiet grunt before burying herself in her blankets.

Steve closes her door behind him and finds Peggy in the kitchen.

“How in the hell did that happen?” She glares daggers through him, arms crossed tightly.

He rubs his forehead. “What do you mean, Peg? She got out of the tub and cut her hair.”

“She was alone in the bath?” Peggy rolls her shoulders back. “She could have drowned, and you’d never have known.”

“Peg,” Steve scoffs, “that’s ridiculous.”

“She had time to cut her hair off. She could have eas-” Her eyes light up. “Where did she get scissors?”

Steve groans, leaning against the counter. “It was a knife.”

Peggy’s eyes widen. “Where-”

“Ana gave it to her.” Steve shakes his head.

“Oh, fantastic.” Peggy throws her hands in the air and turns to face the sink. “And just in time for the bloody Christmas card photo.”

“What are you so pissed about? It’ll grow back.”

“I’m pissed, darling,” she whirls around, “because I seem to be the only responsible adult under this roof. Because I seem to be the only one capable of caring for our daughter. Because I seem to be the only one who cares-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” He straightens up, setting his jaw. “I’m the only one who’s ever home to keep her safe. Maybe, if I had more help, I’d be able to keep a closer eye on her.”

“I worked in the freezing rain for days on end, Steven.” Peggy takes a step forward. “All I wanted was a warm shower.”

“Why didn’t you just take one at headquarters?” Steve matches her advance.

“Because I was trying to get home to see my family.” She lets out a snort. “Although, now, I’m not sure why.”

Steve’s eyes narrow. “If you’re not happy, why don’t you leave?”

“Because,” she quirks an eyebrow up, “one of us wouldn’t like it if I took Sam back to Hampstead.”

“Oh no,” Steve chuckles, “you don’t get to take her with you.”

“I don’t see why not.” Peggy’s lips twitch into a victorious smirk, “You seem to be having trouble taking care of Sam _and_ the house. Otherwise the bathroom wouldn’t have been a wreck.”

“Well, Margaret,” he raises his voice, “if you paid any attention to your daughter, you’d know she had a bad day. I did my best. I’m sorry it didn’t live up to her majesty’s standards. My daughter was more important.”

“Oh, is that why you threw her onto that death machine?” she bites.

“She was perfectly safe.” Steve grits his teeth.

Peggy moves forward, crossing into his space. “Howard designed a safety seat for her. You left it behind.”

“The damn thing’s never been tested.” He stands taller, refusing to back away. “You know she’s safer where I can hold onto her.”

“Apparently, she’s not safe anywhere near you.”

He lowers his voice, meeting her fiery gaze. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Every sentence you say, I find out new ways you endangered our daughter tonight. First, you left her alone in the bath. Then there’s a knife, which you didn’t even know about. She had long enough for her to hack off half her hair. You took her out on your motorcycle in her pajamas with no safety restraints.” Peggy grows more heated as she continues. “What’s next, Steve? Did you throw her into a wa-”

Steve wraps a hand around each of Peggy’s arms, with such force she loses her voice. His grip is firm, but gentle, careful not to hurt her. With every one of his muscles tensed, she can see the restraint written across his face. He pushes her back, nostrils flaring with every breath.

“Do not _ever_ imply that I would hurt my daughter,” he growls. “I would die before I let anything touch her.” He turns and stalks out of the kitchen.

Peggy swallows hard. She shouldn’t have said that. “Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

She lets out a huff. That did not go as expected.

It was a low blow, and honestly, she didn’t know she was saying it until it came out. She knows about his past. With a groan, she throws her tea kettle on the stove. He’ll need a moment to calm down. She needs a moment to think.

He’s right. The hair will grow back, and it’s still long enough that she might be able to salvage what’s left. That’s not what bothered her, and, truthfully, it wasn’t the risk to Sam either. She knows Steve wouldn’t let anything happen to her. But he just left the mess for her to clean up. All she wanted was a shower and food.

Her brain flashes back to what Steve had said about dinner, and she opens the fridge. Scanning the contents, she quickly finds the Tupperware container, left in the center of an eye-level shelf. She sighs and shakes her head as she carries it to the microwave. He made it as easy as possible for her. She watches the small, green clock count down, elbows resting on the counter. When the microwave beeps, she jerks the container out and drops it on the counter, shaking the heat from her hand.

The screech of her teapot tears through the silence. Peggy snatches the plastic handle, wincing at the pressure on her sensitive palm. She pauses, listening for movement, and relaxes when she’s convinced Sam hasn’t woken up. She drops a teabag into the steaming water and watches the color bloom out.

She takes her meal and heads toward the table but hesitates and settles on the living room instead. She flips on the radio as she passes and takes a seat on the couch. Holding her mug under her nose, she closes her eyes and breathes in the herbal aroma. The lavender scent eases her mind and soothes her muscles. She settles in, allowing herself a moment to appreciate the feel of cool silk against her skin.

She’s been wearing the same clothes for days and, since she didn’t get to shower, probably still has mud in her now loose hair. Her joints ache from the cold, cramped attic she holed up in for the last two days. Her feet are covered in blisters from wearing snow-soaked socks, which she did change, but they just soaked through again. Her shoulders still sting from the knife fight, and when she turns just right, her bruised kidney flares up.

But this robe, the one Steve got her for their second anniversary, is heaven. Soft against her wind-beaten skin and gentle on her bruised body. The belt, tied snug around her waist, and Steve’s scent ingrained in the threads gives her an irrational sense of security. The way it falls over her body makes her feel like she could outshine Marilyn Monroe. Even on days when she can’t tell whether the crust over her elbows is mud or blood. Wearing this robe makes her want to be on the cover of Playboy. A feeling she only voices on occasion after Steve insisted on holding an in-house photoshoot.

It still blows her mind that so many images can fit onto a single tiny electronic box. Steve keeps calling it a phone, but all it does is take pictures. And only of important things, he’s worried of running out of space. Whatever that means.

She tucks her feet under herself and takes a sip of tea, smirking. Maybe a photoshoot would make Steve feel better. She rolls her shoulders as the warmth spreads across her skin. He would love to get new pictures. Leaning forward, she exchanges her tea for the steak and sits back. Especially with her old robe. The red one she had Howard import during the war. It’s not as nice as her new one. It was cheap, something to reassure herself that she was, in fact, still a woman. It has far outlived its use, but she still can’t bring herself to get rid of it. Not since the first time Steve saw her wearing it. Whether he stumbled or was pushed into her tent is still a topic of great debate, but that’s of little importance. She nearly shot him, would have if he weren’t so damn recognizable. Barnes must have spent his entire paycheck getting Steve drunk.

That was the night she found out Steve was a virgin. He turned red from his ears to below his collar; her shock certainly didn’t help. All his reasoning made sense. The girls lined up around the block for a date with him, but pity only gets you so far. A second date and a good night kiss, to be exact. Of course, she didn’t intend to make him uneasy, she just couldn’t wrap her head around it. Twenty-five years. She was three years younger and had already – well, that’s not the point.

She shakes her head, clearing the images of the past. As she eats, she reflects on the evening. She knows she was too harsh with Sam. Her chest tightens remembering she didn’t even tell Sam goodnight. She’ll fix that the moment she finishes eating. But Steve, that’s a deeper wound. She knows it will require more than simply letting him throw her onto the bed. Probably more, even, than surprising him in the shower.

Running through her options, she sighs. It’ll have to be her least favorite method of conflict resolution. Very well, her mouth got her into this mess, it’s only appropriate that it gets her out. Standing, she nods to herself. She’ll talk it out with him, then.

She takes her dishes to the kitchen and leans over the sink. She’ll start with Sam. Snuggles are easier than apologies. She was trained in espionage, after all, not politics. If you’re apologizing as a spy, you’re in a very poor position. But Steve isn’t her mark, he’s her husband, and marriage is more difficult than any mission she’s been assigned. She slides her dishes into the dishwasher and lifts the door closed, reading the small sign on the front. _Clean._ Groaning, she bends over and removes her dirty dishes and washes them by hand.

“Damn it, Rogers.” She shakes her head. He really does more than she gives him credit for.

She passes the radio on her way to the hall. Re-runs of the old Captain America show. It’s been two decades, and somehow, they still find airspace to run it. She clicks it off as Betty Carver’s airy voice floats out of the speakers. She’s managed to find herself in need of rescuing again. Peggy chuckles to herself as she walks away.

If they only knew.

“Love?” She knocks softly on Sam’s door, pushing it open with a creak. “Are you awake?”

She waits for a response before easing into Sam’s shadowy room. None comes. “I’m terribly sorry, love.” She sits on the edge of the bed leaning over to the far side. “I didn’t mean to-”

She slides her hand over the mattress, confirming her suspicion. Sam is gone. Heat floods Peggy’s cheeks, and she struggles to control her anger.

“Steve!” She stalks down the hall. “We’ve discussed this. Sam needs to sleep in her own bed, no matter how upset-” She swings the door open to find Steve curled on his side. Alone.

He sits up, squinting into the light from the open door. “What the hell do you want now?”

She narrows her eyes, continuing into the room. She throws the blankets back to get a look at the entire bed. “She’s not here.”

“Of course not.” Steve shakes his head as Peggy sprints out the bedroom door.

She flings Sam’s bathroom door open. Finding it empty, she skids back into Sam’s room. She throws blankets and pillows off the bed in a frenzy. “She’s not here,” she yells in a shrill voice.

Steve’s heavy steps pound down the hall. “What?” He continues past Sam’s bedroom and into the living room, flipping every light switch on his way. “Sam?”

As Peggy kneels to check under the bed, she hears the squeal of the back door. He hasn’t found her either. She turns to the closet, throwing clothes out behind her. “Steve,” she pads out to the living room, “she’s gone, darling.”

He emerges from the backyard panting. “Peg, she’s five. She can’t just be-”

“Her bag is gone,” she blurts, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Her go bag- I checked her closet- it’s not-”

Steve rests a hand on her arm, squeezing softly. “She can’t have gone far.”

“Right.” Peggy takes a breath and runs to her room to change.

Steve follows calmly. “You should stay here.”

Her face flushes. “If you think I’m just going to sit here while-”

“I can move faster without you.” His stony expression doesn’t invite argument. “You need to call Bucky, the Jarvises, Howard. Anyone she’d go to.”

Peggy nods. As much as she hates it, he’s right. She follows him to the front door, dragging her feet. She wraps her arms around her stomach and looks up at him. “Just find her.”

He gives her a sharp nod before slipping out the door.

Peggy takes a breath before turning to the kitchen. She lifts the handpiece from its hook on the wall and dials Bucky’s number.

When Steve trudges through the front door, Peggy looks up from her spot on the kitchen floor. She twirls the phone cord in one hand and sloshes a half empty handle of scotch in the other.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She takes a drink straight from the bottle. “Our daughter is missing, and I’m stuck in this bloody kitchen. I’ve searched the house top to bottom twice over, done a handful of pushups, folded the laundry-”

“How many’s a handful?” Steve makes his way into the kitchen. Their entire collection of firearms glistens on the table; the smell of oil and gunpowder fills the dining room. A full set of steak knives is embedded in a wide group in the wall.

“I don’t know, Steve.” She shakes her head, dropping the phone cord. “Six dozen or so, maybe. What does it matter? I’ve called everyone and heard nothing back. The police won’t do anything until she’s been gone twenty-four hours. You searched, what, a five mile radius? How many times? James is calling in Timothy’s Search and Rescue team, but they won’t be here until morning. She’s gone. What did you expect me to do?”

He slides down the wall beside her. “I was just going to ask if you planned to share.”

She takes another drink and passes him the bottle, wiping her mouth. He holds it out at eye level and raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t Howard just give this to us?”

Peggy rolls her bloodshot eyes. “I’m fine.”

He looks around the kitchen. “You did some cleaning?”

“Of sorts,” she snickers. “I just can’t sit still.”

“You’re doing pretty well, now.”

“I’m drunk.”

“You know, I used to think it was hot when you assembled weapons to calm down.”

Peggy snorts, “What happened?”

“You shot me.” He grins, wrapping an arm around her.

“I shot at you.” She rolls her head to the side lazily, slurring her words. “We were five feet apart. If I’d wanted to shoot you, I wouldn’t have missed.”

He draws his eyebrows together, noticing the brilliant flush in her normally ivory skin. Laying a hand on her head, he tightens his jaw. “You’re burning up.”

She doesn’t answer, worry spreading across her own face. “Steve, she knows, right? We talked to her about-” She waves a hand in the air. “Everything. She wouldn’t just go with a stranger, right? We would’ve heard something?”

He presses a kiss to her forehead and strokes back her sweaty hair. He bunches it in his hand and pulls it away from her neck, letting the heat escape. “I’d like to say yes, but the people who want to hurt us aren’t stupid. They wouldn’t give her a chance to make noise.” He stands slowly and pulls Peggy to her feet.

She shakes her head, looking at the floor. “I know.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

“Hey,” he tips her chin up, “if someone took her, they’ll want us to know it.”

She sniffles, burying her face in Steve’s shoulder. “What if kidnapping isn’t their only plan?”

“Then they won’t live long enough to regret it.” He runs his fingers through her matted hair. “They’re not stupid, Peg. They don’t want us in a position where we have nothing to lose.”

“What if they don’t know who she is?” Peggy gasps and continues with increasingly shallow breaths. “She took her bag and left, Steve. Anyone could have picked her up. God only knows how long she was gone before we noticed. She could be halfway around the world by now. Sold to the highest bidder. Steve, what if-”

“Hush.” He pulls her to her feet, smoothes her hair down and rubs a thumb across her cheekbone, smudging tears behind it. “You’re spiraling.”

“How are you so calm?” She pulls back, giving him an accusatory look.

“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “I guess because you’re not.”

“Well, I’m sorry I care, Steve.” She shouts, leaning into her toes. “Maybe you’d understand if you-”

“Don’t.” He holds her at arms length. “Our issues may be on the back burner right now, but they’re still on the stove. Don’t make it worse.”

She takes a step back, shaking Steve’s hands off. “You’re still angry with me?” It comes out as a question, though she’s not entirely sure she meant it to.

“I’m certainly not thrilled with you,” he lets out a derisive snort. “Yes, Peggy I’m still angry with you. I have been for a while.”

Her shoulders drop and she looks away A soft “oh” escapes before she can square her shoulders and lift her chin. She’s known, of course, but this is the first time she’s had to face it.

“Peg,” Steve stops short, sorting through his thoughts. “You haven’t been acting like you lately. You’re overworked.”

“I can handle myself.” She lays a hand on the table. She’s entirely too drunk for this. She was fine on the ground and leaning against Steve. But now, standing on her own, she can feel gravity trying to topple her.

“Yeah, you’re a shining example of healthy stress management.” He crosses his arms. “You can’t even stand up straight.”

Unyielding, Peggy lifts her hand and steps away from the table. She sets her jaw and stares Steve down. Focusing on staying upright, she drowns out Steve’s comments about flying off the handle. As the room spins faster, she decides to cut her losses, stumbling toward Steve.

He meets her halfway, wrapping his arms around her. She leans into his solid chest, letting him hold her up. His muscles don’t soften against her like normal. She doesn’t sink into his open arms. He’s not completely rigid, but he doesn’t give like her memory tells her he should. He doesn’t exude the sense of security she’s used to.

She pulls him in tighter and takes a deep breath. “What are we going to do?”

“You’re going to take a shower.”

“No, I am not. I’m staying right here with you.”

“Look at me.” He waits for her to make eye contact. “You’ve been in the field for nine days. You’re tired and stressed.” He cracks a smile. “And, honestly, you kind of stink.”

She shoves his shoulder.

“Go, take your time. I’ll man the phone.”

She leaves him in the kitchen begrudgingly, dropping her robe the moment she walks into the bedroom. Her hands shake with nervous energy, forcing her to take her time in the shower. She has to admit, the warm water is tremendously relaxing. She focuses on the rivulets of heat falling down her body. The rhythm is strangely therapeutic. Her shoulders loosen under the soft pressure of falling water. The water runs deep brown as she washes the mud and blood from her hair, working gently through the knots.

As she stands in the steam, her eyelids grow heavy. She shuts off the water and slides open the door, letting the rush of cool air jolt her awake. She towels off quickly and pulls on a shirt and a pair of Steve’s flannel sleeping pants, tying the waistband as tight as it’ll go. She shuffles out to the kitchen, stepping on the legs of Steve’s pants, despite rolling the waistband several times. She pulls her hands into her sleeves and wipes at her cheeks. When she sees Bucky sitting across from Steve in the dining room, she clears her throat and rolls her shoulders back.

“Anything?”

Steve shakes his head.

Peggy slumps into the seat next to Steve and leans into his side. Steve wraps a stiff arm around her, glancing at Bucky.

“Hey, Peg, I’m doing everything I can. Morita volunteered to fly in if we haven’t found her by tomorrow. Half the Commandos have already agreed to a rescue mission, if need be.”

Peggy nods, leaning further into Steve. He glances down at her ashen face and sunken eyes.

“You need to rest.”

She shakes her head.

“Come on,” he groans, pushing her upright. “You and me, on the couch. Buck can answer the phone.”

Bucky nods and gives her a small salute.

She chuckles and follows Steve to the couch. He sits down sideways and pulls Peggy down to sit between his legs. She lays on her side, hips nestled neatly at the crook of his legs, and rests her head on his chest. He doesn’t wrap her up in his strong, warm arms or tuck her legs under his own. He lets her lounge across him, only making minor adjustments. She falls asleep before she can find the energy to protest.

Steve squeezes her gently, and his voice becomes clearer. She’s breathing heavily. He wipes little beads of sweat from her face. She must have been having a nightmare. He always takes care of her. Keeps her safe, even from her own demons.

“I don’t know, Buck.” Steve’s voice is quiet. His chest vibrates with every whisper. “She’s just so angry all the time.”

“Part of the job.” She imagines Bucky nods as he answers. “She needs to take time off. She built up plenty of vacation time.”

Steve’s hand leaves her hair, no doubt pinching between his eyebrows. “I’ve asked. She won’t. She just wants to…”

Her groggy brain can’t keep up with the conversation

Again, she wakes to Steve pulling her in tight. She was dreaming about Sam. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. When she hears her name, she resists the urge to sit up. Instead, she reverts to her training and falls into passive observance.

Bucky’s gravelly whisper cuts through the fog in her head. “Maybe you should come back.”

“No,” the shake of Steve’s head jostles her body, “half the reason I resigned was because I thought being home to handle things would make it easier for her.”

Her chest tightens. She shouldn’t have eavesdropped. She tries to ignore them. Tries to fall back asleep.

“But it didn’t work. So, maybe you should come back.”

“I can’t. You should see Sam’s face when she sees me waiting for the bus.” Peggy can practically hear Steve’s grin. “I can’t leave her.”

Bucky chuckles, “Yeah, I get it.”

“Maybe she’d take your job.”

“Yeah, sure.” Bucky’s sarcasm cuts straight to her heart. “Sounds like her.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

His hand falls away from her hair. His arm falls away from her side, taking his body heat with them. The rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest falters.

“Just keep trying.” Bucky’s tone turns serious. “You’ve done pretty good tonight.”

“I still love her, Buck. These two girls, they’re everything. I can’t lose her.” He shifts underneath her. “But I can’t live like this either.” Steve swipes a thumb across her cheek and nudges her. “Peg? Hey, you alright?”

She hadn’t even realized she was crying. “Just a bad dream. Did anyone call?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Not yet.”

She sinks back into Steve’s chest with a heavy sigh.

“We’ll find her.” Steve pulls her into himself and wraps his leg over hers.

Her body relaxes as she buries her face in his chest. He floods her senses. His touch warms her skin. His voice soothes her mind. His scent is so strong she can taste it. When she opens her eyes, his face fills her vision, concerned eyes and all. This is right. This is safe. This is how it’s supposed to be.

She lets herself fall apart. Sobs emanating in her chest wrack through her body. Tears puddle on Steve’s shirt. The most God-awful choking noises rumble in her throat.

“What if we don’t?” She claws at his biceps, curling her legs into his lap. “Steve, I can’t- She can’t be gone. I’ll die if-”

“Hey, hey.” He pulls her against his chest and turns to sit up. He cradles her head in his hand and leans his face down to meet hers. “It’s going to be okay. She’s fine. I’m sure of it.”

Her chest tightens hard enough she’s certain her ribs will crack. She wheezes through her constricting throat and curls in on herself, wrapping her arms around Steve’s neck.

“I had one rotten job and I royally mucked it up.”

Steve sighs, “Peg, you have a lot of jobs to-”

“Only one that matters,” she interrupts. “I couldn’t keep her safe.”

“I was here too.” Steve’s eyes shift to the movement in the edge of his field of vision. Bucky creeps out of the room, and Steve continues, “It’s my fault too.”

“You didn’t yell at her,” she sniffs, shaking her head.

“Neither did you.”

“I yelled at you.”

“Yeah,” he takes a deep breath, “well, I’m not going to run away.”

She pulls back and locks eyes with him. “Are you sure?”

His face softens. “How long have you been awake?”

She shrugs.

“I didn’t mean to bring this up now.” His eyes fall closed. “We’ll talk after this is over.”

She shakes her head.

“You’ll always be my best girl.” He leans down to kiss her softly. “No matter what happens.”

Her heart stutters when he pulls away. His cold, chaste kiss said it all. He blames her. If they don’t get Sam back, he’ll never forgive her. He doesn’t want to love her. She’s not worth this hurt.

“I think I’ll get some more sleep.” She stands and straightens out her clothes. “I’m no use to anyone like this.”

“Do you want me to come?”

She shakes her head and pads to their bedroom, though lately it feels more like his. The bed is still ruffled from Steve waking up. He’s been sleeping in the middle. She can’t blame him; she’s been gone for nine days. She wiggles into her side of the bed and turns off the lamp. Wrapping her arms around her pillow, she breaks again.

It’s too much. Sam is gone. Steve is going to leave. Even if they find Sam, he’ll take her with him. Bucky would take Steve’s side. Everyone probably would, and she couldn’t blame them. She’d have no one left. Nothing but an empty house, one she didn’t even want to begin with.

She has to do better. Be better.

She dries her face and settles into her pillows, still shuddering. The warm, Egyptian cotton quiets her rampant thoughts. She lets the steady ache in her chest lull her back to sleep.

She wakes with a start, Sam’s scream still ringing in her ears. All she can remember is running through an abandoned bunker, following the sound of Sam’s crying. She searched room after concrete room to no avail. Sam’s screams grew louder no matter which direction she ran. When she finally found Sam, face full of terror, she was yanked back to reality.

Light bleeds through the closed blinds and voices filter through the door. She tugs on more appropriate clothing and heads to the kitchen.

“Tim,” Peggy forces a smile, “you got here quick.”

“She’s going to be alright.” Dugan wraps her in a brief hug.

Steve takes a plate of eggs and bacon from the microwave. “After you eat, I’m going to bring you to the Starks. Ana and Maria agreed to keep you company while we search the area again.”

“Steve.” Peggy’s voice is flat. “I’m not sitting by while my daughter needs me.”

He looks around the room and drags Peggy to the side. “You’re in no mental state to help right now. And I won’t leave you alone like this.”

“I’m fine.” Truthfully, she doesn’t feel much of anything at the moment. “I need to help.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “For once in your life, would you just listen to me without a fight?”

His biting tone forces her to rethink. She has to do better. For him. She nods. “Okay.”

“What?” His eyes widen. “Really?”

She nods again.

“Oh, okay.” He wraps his arms around her waist. “She’s going to be fine. I promise.”

She looks at her feet. He can’t promise that. “Just find her.”

“We will, Peg.” He leads her back to the table with a hand on her lower back.

Peggy eats slowly, ignoring the conversation around her. She has little interest in their search plans if she won’t be a part of it. It drives her mad to think she can’t take care of her own daughter. Even worse, Howard is going to join the search. While she sits in the kitchen twiddling her thumbs.

Maria will be a wreck. She’s always been sensitive, but it’s gotten even worse since they founded SHIELD. Peggy would never say it, but she strongly suspects Howard’s time at home takes a toll on her. Why they ever got married, Peggy will never understand.

Howard certainly made his rounds during the war, but when he fell, he fell hard. Again, Peggy couldn’t quite understand why. She’s not unattractive, even now, but she was never what one would consider a looker. She was wholly unremarkable and certainly not Howard’s usual type. She was a lovely woman, kind and gentle. Everything Howard Stark was not. Which must be exactly why he became so immediately enamored with her. She was a bit of a herring. Howard wooed her for weeks before she even allowed him to take her out.

Everyone thought they were a perfect pair, but Peggy always had her doubts. Just because two puzzle pieces fit together, doesn’t mean they make the right picture. During the founding of SHIELD, Steve had insisted on providing a healthy work-life balance for employees. Howard had a regular work schedule and more time at home. He grew bored rather quickly, and Maria, disillusioned with his genius, fell victim to her health. Her migraines increased in intensity and frequency. Melancholia soon followed suit. Howard worked in his garage, Maria slept the days away, and Tony was stuck in the middle.

Peggy takes one last bite and carries her plate to the sink. She sneers to herself as she washes the dish. Even Howard and Maria were doing better than her and Steve. They should have split up years ago. She and Steve have always been solid. A perfectly complementary pair. And yet, here he is, talking about leaving her. He will. She knows it. She’s never deserved him.

Her chest tightens around the thought, cracking through her shell of numb indifference. Fan-bloody-tastic. She shakes her head and nods when Steve asks if she’s ready to go. She follows him silently to the car. The ride is agonizingly slow. Neither say a word, though halfway there, Steve reaches his hand toward Peggy. She takes it in hers, grounding herself in the touch. Every minute without Sam pushes her closer to the edge. Steve was right. She’s in no shape for this.

As she walks into the Stark house, the sound of tiny footfalls overhead chips away at her numbness. Does Tony know? She doesn’t even know where she would begin with Sam if the situation were reversed. She vaguely feels Steve’s lips press into her temple, muttering something about being back before she knows it. Children can’t possibly understand weight of such a loss. The utter terror at the mere thought. The paralyzing hurt that leaves you empty and broken.

Quiet footsteps pattering through the kitchen pulls her out of her head. She sits on the edge of the Starks’ puffy, leather couch. Steve’s kiss registers as his attempt at a comforting goodbye. Ana’s dress flutters as she enters the kitchen. Maria sits with mascara stained cheeks in the armchair at the corner of the sofa. She reaches for Peggy’s hand and offers a reassuring squeeze. Peggy resists the urge to scoff at the gesture. It’s rich. Maria Stark, the most frazzled woman Peggy’s ever met, is consoling her. She must truly be a mess.

The little feet stumble up the stairs, and Ana emerges from the kitchen, taking a seat next to Peggy. She wraps an arm around Peggy’s shoulders. This is more natural. Peggy leans into Ana's embrace, letting her hand fall from Maria’s grip. Maria doesn’t make mention of it, watching tears slide silently down Peggy’s cheeks.

This wave is more calm than her previous breakdowns. No sobbing or gut wrenching. Just tears and a tight chest. Maria’s quiet droning about “she can’t imagine” is oddly soothing. She’s younger than Peggy by several years, but you’d never know it from the way she talks. Her hushed, even tone brings an unparalleled quiet over the room. Or, perhaps, Peggy just no longer has the energy to sustain such dramatic outbursts.

When her eyes dry, Peggy leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She drags her hands through her hair, sniffling. Her eyes have never burned so much. She wipes the moisture from her cheeks and takes mug that appears under her nose.

“Edwin said Tea Time might help you relax,” Ana smiles.

Peggy looks into her mug, swirling it around. She didn’t even notice Ana get up. She didn’t notice a lot lately. With a sigh, she raises the mug to her lips. “Thank you.” Her voice is full and wet and stuck in her throat.

Ana takes her seat next to Peggy, rubbing a hand gently across her back. “I’m sure she’s fine, dear. They’ll find her soon.”

Peggy nods. They won’t. If she were anywhere near the house, Steve would have found her last night. “Does Tony know?”

Ana glances at Maria, who answers softly, “Not yet.”

“He probably wouldn’t understand anyway.” Peggy takes another long drink. “I shouldn’t have yelled at her. It was such a petty thing.”

Peggy sets her mug down and presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. She drags her hands down her face and tugs her fingers through her hair, growling when they catch on the knots in the ends. She should have washed it better. It smells delightful, though. She must have made a mess of it during a nightmare. Steve wasn’t there to wake her.

“If we don’t get her back, Steve will never forgive me.” The words rush out before she can stop them.

Ana pats Peggy’s leg. “No, dear. He can’t blame you.”

Maria takes Peggy’s hand, agreeing.

Peggy nods. He does. So, does she. It’s her fault. She loses herself in a downward spiral and almost misses the shuffle of feet behind the couch.

Tony pokes his head over the arm of the couch. “Are you okay, Mrs. Rogers?”

Peggy opens her mouth and closes it back. She reaches a hand out to cup his chubby cheek. “No, dear. I’m not.”

Tony watches her take a shaky breath and wraps his arms around her legs. Resting his head on her knee, he gives her calves a tender squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

She offers a half smile. “We can’t find Sam anywhere, and I’m very worried she’s in trouble.”

His face lights up. “She’s not in trouble.”

Peggy furrows her brow, eyes frantically searching Tony’s face.

“She made me promise not to tell, but you shouldn’t worry.” He leans in, cupping a hand around his mouth, and whispers, “She’s in my room.”

Peggy launches off the couch before Maria can finish yelling “Anthony Edward Stark.” Blood rushes through her ears as Peggy sprints up the stairs. Downstairs, Maria carries on about “we’ve been looking everywhere.”

“Sam?” She misses a step and stumbles, but doesn’t stop, scrambling up the last four steps. “Samantha? Love!”

She throws Tony’s bedroom door open and finds Sam sitting on his bed, candy wrappers and granola crumbs scattered around her. Peggy rushes in and tears her off the bed and sinks to her knees, holding Sam against her chest.

“Mommy?” Sam groans. “You’re hurting me.”

Peggy loosens her arms, resting her hand in Sam’s hair. “Oh, my love, I was so afraid.” She plants a kiss on Sam’s cheek before leaning into a hug. “Don’t you ever do that again. Never leave us like that. Ever. Do you understand me?”

Sam wraps her arms tentatively around Peggy. “I don’t want to ruin your Christmas card.”

“No, love.” Peggy’s heart clenches. “No, that’s not what I meant. I love you. Daddy loves you. We would never want you to leave.”

“You still want me?” Sam nuzzles into Peggy’s neck, smearing tears over her skin.

“Of course, dear.” Peggy pulls her in tighter. “Of course. I’m so sorry I got angry with you. We can fix your hair. It’s okay.”

“Mommy?”

“Yes, love?” Peggy leans her cheek against Sam’s, closing her eyes softly.

“I’m kind of hungry.”

Peggy laughs, pulling away. Sam’s backpack lays in the corner of the room. Obviously, Sam found the trail mix and granola bars, and Tony must have snuck her some candy. The canned goods must still be in her bag. She looks Sam over, knitting her eyebrows together. Sam’s wearing fresh clothes, also from her bag.

“Love, how did you get here?”

Sam shrugs. “I ran.”

Peggy’s eyes widen. “You ran all the way here?”

Sam tucks her hands behind her back and looks at her toes. “Well, I walked a little.”

“I see,” Peggy chuckles. “I meant; how did you get _here._ In Tony’s room. Without anyone noticing.”

Sam’s eyes light up, and she nods. “Mr. Jarvis went home after he made dinner like always. Mr. Stark was in his laba- lart- bal-” she shakes her head, “downstairs. And Mrs. Stark is always in bed. Tony let me inside and brought me snacks, so nobody’d know.”

“You are too smart for your own good.” Peggy pulls Sam against her chest and lifts her off the floor.

“What does that mean?” Sam twirls her fingers in Peggy’s hair.

Peggy hums to herself. That may be the nicest thing she’s ever felt. “It means I love you.”

“Everything means I love you.”

Peggy shifts Sam to her hip as they walk down the stairs. Sam lays her head on Peggy’s shoulder and looks up at her.

“You’re too smart for your own good, too.”

Peggy sits on the couch with Sam in her lap. She can hear Ana on the phone, presumably with Edwin, explaining the situation. Maria is chastising Tony in another room. Peggy holds Sam tight, focusing on Sam’s little heartbeat against her chest. Sam’s little fingers run through Peggy’s hair and over her cheeks. Peggy takes Sam’s hands and kisses her fingers and turns her around.

Peggy combs through Sam’s knotted hair. The cut is rough and uneven. “Yes, I think we can fix this.” She tugs at the ends of Sam’s hair, pulling it as straight as it will go. Those blasted curls have always made hair styling impossible.

Peggy leans her head against the back of the couch and closes her eyes. She pulls Sam back to lean against her chest. Sam chatters on about how much fun she had with Tony.

Peggy darts up when Sam slides off her lap.

“Daddy!”

“Baby,” Steve lets out a breath. “What were you thinking?”

Peggy makes her way across the room to Steve and Sam. His eyes are red and puffy. He gives her a weak smile.

“You ready to go home? I’m exhausted.”

Peggy nods, taking Sam from his arms. Steve retrieves Sam’s backpack while they walk to the car. Peggy sits in the back seat, holding Sam’s hand the entire way home. Steve carries Sam inside and lays down with her and Peggy.

Steve falls asleep in minutes, but Sam is wide awake. She turns over, looking between Steve and Peggy. She twists and stretches and yawns, but she can’t sleep. When she turns to face Peggy, she brushes her thumb up Peggy’s cheekbone.

Peggy cracks an eye open, and Sam drops her hand, immediately squeezing her eyes shut.

“Can’t sleep?” Peggy chuckles.

When Sam shakes her head, Peggy slides off the edge of the bed, motioning for Sam to follow her. They walk into the bathroom, and Peggy grabs a pair of shears and a spray bottle. She drenches Sam’s hair with nearly the entire bottle and begins brushing through it.

“What shall we do with your hair, love?” Peggy meets her eyes in the mirror.

“Cut it all off,” she grumbles, crossing her arms.

“Why would we do that?”

“I don’t want to be a girl.”

Peggy smiles, “I’m so sorry, love. I’ll be sure to hold a vote with the next one.”

“I didn’t get invited to Jason’s birthday party because it’s only for boys.”

Peggy nods. “Well, my love, life can be very difficult. You’re not always going to like the way things are, and you may never quite fit in.”

“The boys don’t like to let me play with them. But I don’t want to play with dolls.”

Peggy’s face softens, and her voice drops. “And these are your only options?” She snips off a strip of hair from the short side.

Sam shrugs.

“My love,” Peggy combs through Sam’s hair again before cutting another section, “I think you’ll find there are a lot of people who don’t want to be what they’re supposed. They’re just afraid to change things.”

She takes a slow, deep breath, and pulls a strip of hair tight. “You are different. _You_,” she smiles and tickles Sam’s ear, “are brave. Some people don’t like that. They’re going to be mean to you your whole life. They’ll call you names, pull your hair, make faces at you, and maybe even hit you. So, keep playing in the mud. You chase your dreams, and eventually, you’ll find someone who loves it. But above all else, my love, know your own value, then no one else’s opinion will matter.”

Sam thinks it over for a short moment. “What about you and daddy?”

Peggy chuckles an answer, “We will do our best to support you, but we will also be honest with you.”

Peggy takes her hair dryer from its hook beside the sink and flips it on. After several minutes of drying and fluffing and brushing, Peggy sets the dryer down. She gives Sam’s hair a last little tug.

“How does it look?” Sam asks timidly.

The asymmetrical bob is a little jagged. It doesn’t look exactly right the way her hair kinks in every direction at the ends. It’s clearly a home job.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” It’s cute. “But, please don’t do that again.”

Sam nods, grinning, and wraps her arms around Peggy.

Peggy hugs her back. Stroking her hair softly. She never should have gotten so angry. It was an easy fix.


	6. ...And a Divorce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHIELD is established in 1950 while Peggy’s pregnant. After Sam is born, she decides to go back into the field. Steve isn’t happy with her decision but stays on her team for five years. When he decides to leave SHIELD, he starts pushing Peggy to leave the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little one-shot I've been working on for a couple days. I'm not really sorry for the feels (and there are a lot of them). I have to feel them, so you do too.

Day 1:

“Because I don’t want to be in the field anymore, Peggy. I spent a lifetime fighting someone else’s battles. I’m tired,” Steve groans impatiently, “I want to be home with my wife and daughter.”

“What about what I want, Steve? Doesn’t that matter to you anymore?” Peggy stares daggers at him from across the kitchen.

“Oh, don’t even start with that! You know damn well the only reason I stayed in SHIELD this long was to make you happy.” He rubs his temples. “I’m not asking you to leave the agency with me. Bucky's a smooth talker, but he hates managing people. He would give you the directorship in a heartbeat if you asked.”

“I don’t want to do paperwork. I need adventure. I need to be in the field. I would be miserable in an office.”

“But you’d be safe.”

“So, you don’t think I’m capable of surviving a mission without you?” Peggy’s yelling by now. “You used to think I could do damn near anything!”

“I think our daughter deserves to know you!” Steve raises his voice to match. “Even if you don’t get yourself killed, you’re gone at least half the month!”

“I’d rather she grows up knowing her mother always did the right thing, even when it was hard.”

“This is ridiculous,” Steve laughs standing up from the table, “You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said in the last three weeks.”

“And you simply don’t care what I’ve said.”

“You’re impossible!” He sighs and raises his hands in defeat. His voice drips with sarcasm, “Sure, Peg. It’s my fault. I don’t care what you say. I don’t care what you want.”

Peggy rolls her eyes.

He sinks back into his chair. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Peggy takes a ragged breath and storms down the hallway.

“That’s not going to work anymore.” He calls softly, trying not to wake Sam. “I’m not going to drop it just because you’re upset. I’ll gladly sleep on the couch.”

After about ten minutes, Peggy emerges from the bedroom with her full duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

“What are you doing?” He jumps out of his seat.

“I’m leaving, Steve. Clearly we’re not getting anywhere.” She turns toward the front door.

He groans. “I can’t keep fighting with you. So, if this is your only solution, then fine. Go.”

Day 36:

“Thanks.” Peggy says, lifting her arm full of clothes.

“Of course. I mean they’re yours.” Steve doesn’t make eye contact. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Steve…” Peggy closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

Steve raises his eyebrows waiting.

“Just, thank you.” With that she shuts the front door behind her.

She begins walking to her car but stops when she hears Sam’s voice. She slowly turns around, trying to listen.

“Mommy!” Sam comes tearing into the living room, eyes bright. When she looks around, her smile fades and her shoulders droop. “I thought I heard Mommy.”

Steve smiles sadly. “I’m sorry, baby. It must have been a dream.”

“She’s not coming home, is she, Daddy?”

Steve takes a deep breath and picks her up. “I really don’t know, baby.”

She wraps her arms around Steve’s neck. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”

“Never.” He kisses her forehead. “Now, let’s get you back in bed.”

On the front porch, Peggy leans against the door sobbing quietly, her heart shattered.

Day 45:

Peggy knocks on the door nervously. She had timed it perfectly so she wouldn’t interrupt dinner, but she might get to see Sam for an hour or two before bed.

Steve opens the door, looking surprised. “Peggy? Did you need something? The phone didn’t ring.”

“No, I, uh- Well, yes, I was hoping-” She takes a deep breath to gather her thoughts. “I’d like to see Sam.”

Steve goes rigid. “Only if you’re here to stay.”

“Steve, that’s not fair. She’s my daughter too.”

“You’re right, Peg. It’s not fair.” Steve starts raising his voice. “You’re the one who walked out the door. You left and didn’t look back. You could’ve come back any time in the last month. I would’ve let you see her. But you didn’t. You made a choice. And for three weeks after that, our daughter asked me every single day when you were coming home. Some days more than once.” He takes a deep breath, “She has just started accepting that you might not be coming back. So, no. You don’t get to come see her for a while to make yourself feel better and get her hopes up, just to turn around and leave again.”

“The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt her.” Peggy’s voice catches.

“I know” He brushes her arm softly, “That’s why I’m telling you this. What’s already done is done, but if you’re not ready to stay, you shouldn’t see her at all.”

“Daddy!” The back-door squeals quietly as it slides open and shut. “You said you were gonna come outside after- Mommy!” Sam sprints through the kitchen into the living room. “You came back! I knew you would! Daddy didn’t know, but I always did.”

Peggy drops to her knees and opens her arms, nearly toppling over backwards when Sam slams into her. “You’ve gotten so big.” Peggy pulls Sam in as tight as she can and kisses her cheek.

Sam pushes herself back and looks at Peggy. “Do you want to come play with me?”

“Of course, love.”

She grabs Peggy’s hand and leads her through the house. “Daddy says I have to play outside until the sun goes to sleep.”

Peggy laughs, “That’s a good rule.”

Steve watches them through the window while he finishes the dishes. He wants to join them but knows that Peggy needs this time alone with Sam. Besides, he's still not sure what’s going to happen between him and Peggy, and he doesn’t want to give Sam the wrong idea.

He starts the water for Sam’s bath and puts toothpaste on her toothbrush. He lays a set of pajamas on her bed, then slides open the back door. “Hey, little miss.” Sam turns around with the biggest grin on her face. “Bath time.”

“Can Mommy stay?” Sam asks, eyes bright and full of hope.

Steve sighs, “That’s up to Mom.”

“Of course, I will, love.” She groans as Sam tackles her with a hug. “I’d do anything for you.”

Again, Steve stays out of the way as Peggy helps Sam with her bath. He smiles when he hears them giggling together. Sam excitedly shows Peggy how she can brush her own teeth now. Peggy helps Sam put on her pajamas, then lifts her into bed. Steve comes in and kisses her goodnight.

When Peggy pulls away after kissing her, Sam throws her arms around Peggy’s neck. “Don’t go.” She looks at Steve wide-eyed. “Daddy, don’t let her go!”

Steve steps forward and tries to untangle Sam’s arms. “Sam, it’s time for bed.”

“No, Daddy. Please don’t make her go!”

“It’s okay, love,” Peggy says calmly, “How about I stay with you until you fall asleep?”

Sam eases back against her pillows nodding. Steve sighs and leaves the room silently, shutting the door behind him.

Peggy lays down on Sam’s bed and curls up with her.

“Are all the bad guys gone?” Sam looks at Peggy.

“What do you mean, love?”

“Daddy says you’ll come home after you catch all the bad guys. He says I’m safe here with him, but there’s lots of other kids who aren’t. That’s why you have to work so much.”

Peggy smiles, “You know I love you more than anything?”

“I know,” Sam yawns, “but I miss you, Mommy.”

“I miss you too, love.” Peggy kisses Sam’s cheek as her eyes flutter closed. “More than you can understand.”

Peggy lays with her a little longer, crying into Sam’s hair. She wants to savor the moment; she doesn’t know how long it will be before she gets to do this again. She brushes some hair out of Sam’s face and kisses her forehead. “I love you so, so much.”

Steve is waiting for her, arms crossed, outside Sam’s door. “I don’t know where you’re sleeping now, and I don’t really care. But you will tell your daughter goodnight every night from now on. Because if you don’t, I swear to God, I will file for divorce and you will never see her again. She doesn’t deserve to be jerked around every time you think there’s something more important to do.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Don’t try me.” Steve snarls, staring straight into Peggy’s eyes.

He softens slightly. “You’re still the love of my life, but that’s my daughter.”

Day 59:

After Sam crawls into bed and Peggy curls up beside her, Steve comes in to say goodnight. Just like he has every night for the last two weeks.

“Goodnight, baby. I love you.” He kisses Sam’s forehead.

As he turns to leave, Sam asks innocently, “Aren’t you going to give Mommy a goodnight kiss?”

Steve and Peggy both freeze. Steve turns around and looks at Peggy uncomfortably. He leans down slowly, kisses Peggy on the forehead and chuckles awkwardly. “Goodnight, Mommy.”

After he leaves the room and shuts the door, Sam looks at Peggy. “You should kiss Daddy.”

Peggy laughs, “And where did you get that idea?”

“You haven’t kissed in a long time.” She shrugs. “He doesn’t want you to know, but he misses you too. I think he has dreams about you. I can hear him talking at night sometimes.”

Peggy blushes. “You shouldn’t worry about us, love.”

“Daddy wants to kiss you, but I think he’s afraid you’ll leave again.” Sam struggles to keep her eyes open. “You really hurt his feelings, Mommy.”

“You’re much smarter than anyone gives you credit,” Peggy smiles, “I’m sorry, love. I’m not going to do that again.”

Peggy’s not sure when Sam falls asleep or how much she heard, if anything at all. She walks into the hallway, shutting the door behind her and leans against the wall. Steve is nowhere to be seen. He had made his point on that first night and doesn’t bother to stay up waiting for her anymore. She takes one more deep breath, pushing off the wall.

She intended to leave, but she finds herself frozen, unable to make herself walk toward the door. She sighs and turns the other direction, walking further down the hall. She hesitates with her hand on the doorknob. With another deep breath, she twists her wrist and shoves the door open.

Steve is standing shirtless with his back to the door, folding down the blankets on the bed. Peggy walks in, grabs his shoulder and turns him around, planting a kiss on his lips.

He gently pulls her away, “Did I miss something?”

“Just me,” she smiles pushing him against the wall. “Don’t worry. I missed you too.”

“Well we can’t have that.”

Day 65:

As Sam and Peggy lay in bed, a concerned look crosses Sam’s face. “Mommy, do you have to go to work?”

“I’m afraid so, love.” Peggy is propped up on one arm, brushing her fingers through Sam’s hair.

“I don’t like it when the bad guys hurt you.” Sam frowns.

“What do you mean?” Peggy stops playing with Sam’s hair and looks straight at her. “I haven’t fought any bad guys in a few weeks.”

Sam looks confused and somewhat alarmed. She reaches up and runs a hand gently down Peggy’s neck and across her collar bone, “Then who hurt you?”

Peggy giggles a little, blushing as she absentmindedly traces over the same bruises Sam was so concerned about. “No one hurt me, love.”

Sam looks even more confused, but Peggy offers no further explanation.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Peggy smiles, “Now, close your eyes and be quiet.”

Sam turns and snuggles into Peggy. Peggy kisses the top of Sam’s head and wraps her arms around her. It takes less than two minutes for Sam to fall asleep. Peggy chuckles, wishing it were that easy for adults to fall asleep.

She carefully untangles herself from Sam’s arms and makes her way into the hall. She barely has the door shut when her back is pushed up against it. She lifts her hands to cradle Steve’s face. She kisses him softly before pulling away.

“You have to be more gentle from now on.” She stifles a laugh, so she won’t wake Sam up. “She noticed your little territorial claims.”

“That’s not what it is, and you know it.” He softly nuzzles her neck.

“Then what would you call it.” She lowers her voice and traces her lips across his jaw.

“I don’t know,” he chuckles, lifting her up, “marks of passion?”

Steve watches as Peggy sits on the edge of the bed buttoning her shirt. She’s fastened about half of them when he leans forward and says quietly, “You know, you don’t have to go.”

She stops moving but doesn’t look at him. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and continues buttoning her shirt.

“Right.” Steve falls back onto the bed. “I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow, then.”

Day 72:

Steve is washing the dishes while Peggy puts Sam to bed. He had been unable to clean up after dinner because Sam asked him to play outside with them. When he saw the look on her face, saying no just wasn’t an option. When he finishes cleaning out the sink, he dries his hands and turns around, leaning back against the counter.

He takes a deep breath, realizing he doesn’t know what Peggy wants anymore. He thought they were working things out, but in truth, they barely talked. Sam dominates the conversations at dinner, and this was the first time he’d joined Sam and Peggy in the back yard. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes they’re exactly where they had been the night Peggy left, just with less yelling.

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked her stay the night last week; clearly, she wasn’t ready. He probably just pushed her farther away. Maybe this was it for them. Maybe it was time to have a different conversation.

He straightens up when he hears a door shut. “That took longer than usual.”

Peggy drags herself into the kitchen like she’s carrying the weight of the world, “Yes, well, I had to tell Sam goodbye.”

Steve flushes as anger builds in his chest. “What the hell do you mean?”

“I’m going back into the field.”

“Peggy, you promised.”

“I told her I would call every night at bedtime.” Peggy continues timidly. “Steve, I’m a field agent. This is what I was meant to do.”

He fumes silently before leaning back against the counter. He rubs a hand along his jaw. “Yeah, I know. I just wish we’d talked about it five years ago.”

“Steve, I requested a transfer to a team with less time in the field. I’ll be home more.” She wraps her arms around herself. “Wherever that is.” Her tone makes it sound almost like a question.

Steve doesn’t move. He doesn’t react. He just looks her over silently. Then looks away, caught up in thought. Just when Peggy’s turning to leave, Steve stands up and walks over to the radio. He turns it on quietly and walks back to Peggy, holding a hand out.

She takes his hand, and he pulls her in close to his chest. “I guess I can live with that.”

She smiles, resting her head on his shoulder. They sway gently to the music, falling into rhythm easily. Comfortably.

“Steve,” Peggy chokes back tears, “I would really like to come home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated!  
I've been considering doing more one-shots of Sam's childhood, thoughts?


	7. ...And a Tiny Super-Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam learns her own strength. This one's pretty short, not too feel-y. Mostly just cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place when Sam is about five years old

Steve stretches on the front porch, sweating heavily from his morning run. When he opens the door, he finds Peggy slumped on the kitchen floor clutching her left side. He runs to her, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. He diligently scans the room for any indication of danger. There’s dirt and ceramic pieces scattered across the floor. The miniature cactus that used to sit on the shelf in the opposite corner of the dining.

“What happened?” Steve kneels beside her as his nerves settle, realizing everyone safe.

Peggy’s breaths are short and ragged. “Sam.” She barely manages to gasp out the words. “Argument.”

“Where is she?” Steve pulls her in close to him.

She flinches under his touch, prompting him to release her. “Room.”

“Okay.” He helps Peggy stand and walks her to the couch. “I’m going to talk to Sam. When I come back, I’m taking you to see a doctor.”

When Peggy nods without protest, Steve knows she must be in tremendous pain. Steve makes a quick phone call from the kitchen before heading down the hall.

He knocks on Sam’s door before entering.

“Hey, baby. Did you and Mommy get into a fight while I was gone?”

Sam sinks into her shoulders, nodding.

“And what happened?” He sits beside her on the bed.

She chews on her bottom lip for a minute. “I threw the baby cactus at her.”

“Mhmm.” Steve glances down at her disapprovingly. “You hit her pretty hard. She’s in a lot of pain.”

“I know.” Sam looks away. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one who needs to hear that.”

She draws her bottom lip between her teeth again, nodding absently.

Steve takes her chin and turns her face towards him. He levels his eyes with hers. “I know you didn’t mean to. But, you have to be more careful. You’re getting much stronger. Mommy doesn’t heal like us, sweetheart. It’s going to take a few weeks for her to start feeling better.”

Sam nods, turning her face away again.

Steve hugs her tightly. “Uncle Bucky’s going to stay here with you while I take Mommy to the doctor.” He sits with her until there’s a knock on the door. He stands, yelling, “I got it, Peg. Don’t move.”

Sam follows him to the edge of the hallway but refuses to walk into Peggy’s line of sight. She can hear Steve greet Bucky and explain the situation. While she hears Peggy struggling to stand, Bucky walks around the corner.

“Hey, kid. What’re you doing over here?” He asks surprised.

She leans her back against the wall. “I hurt Mommy.” She slides down the wall and hugs her knees.

“Yeah, I heard.” Bucky sits down beside her, his legs extended. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

Sam shakes her head and rests her chin on her knees.

Bucky pulls her into his side with one arm around her shoulders. “C’mon, kid. You can talk to me. I’m not angry with you.”

She wraps her arms around his waist and buries her face in his side. “She just made me so mad.”

“So, you hit her?”

“No.” Sam shakes her head, digging her nose into his ribs. “I threw our baby cactus.”

He peels her off him and lifts her chin. “Do you feel bad?”

“Yeah,” she answers timidly.

“Good.” He nods his head sharply. “Then how about we clean up the mess in the kitchen. We’ll re-pot your cactus. Your parents will be so proud of you when they get back, they’ll forget this whole thing.”

Sam cracks a smile. “Okay.”

When Steve and Peggy get home, Sam is putting the finishing touches on her flower pot. She hurries to finish painting the last heart and jumps down from the table.

Peggy is easing back into the corner of the couch, Steve just stepping away. When Sam sees her, she jumps onto the couch, wrapping her arms around Peggy.

“You’re home!”

Peggy inhales sharply, letting it out as ragged groan when Sam’s shoulder slams into her ribs. “Yes, love.” Her vision starts going dim around the edges. If the SHIELD doctors hadn’t given her such strong medication, she probably would have passed out.

Steve nods at Peggy. “You should show her.” When Peggy shakes her head with a concerned look, Steve continues, “She needs to know what she’s capable of doing to someone.”

Peggy looks from Steve to Sam and then back to Steve before nodding slowly. She lifts the left side of her shirt up to her ribs, displaying a deep red, softball sized bruise, the outline of her ribs clearly visible through the middle. The surrounding area is red and splotchy where the cactus spines irritated her skin. There's a small tube to equalize the pressure in her chest and keep her lungs from collapsing. Her breathing becomes more labored and her face contorts with every small movement.

Sam’s eyes go wide as the discoloration is revealed. She reaches a hand out, tracing the small tube jutting out from Peggy’s side, then gently pressing against bruise. Peggy flinches under the pressure, causing Sam to jerk her hand back. She looks up at Peggy. Sam’s eyes begin to well up as she examines Peggy’s face, eyes squeezed shut, mouth pulled tight, nostrils flared.

“I’m sorry.” Sam breathes out.

“It’s okay, love. I’m fine.” Peggy croaks.

“Sam, you really hurt her.” Steve says flatly from the armchair. “She has a collapsed lung, a couple cracked ribs, some bone bruises, and several cactus spines under her skin.”

As the first tears spill over Sam’s cheeks, Bucky walks in from the kitchen.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve nods toward him.

Bucky nods back, then, seeing Sam, jokes “I leave you guys alone for two minutes, and you make the girl cry?”

Steve takes a deep breath, shaking his head.

Bucky lets out a low whistle. “Jesus, Peg, that looks awful.” He eyes the bruise, walking further into the living room.

Sam bursts into tears, burying her face in Bucky’s stomach.

He wraps an arm around her and gently brushes a hand through her hair. “Hey, it’s alright, kid.” He throws a concerned look at Steve.

“Mommy” is the only word Sam can choke out.

“She’s going to be alright. Just a few broken bones. Your mom’s a tough cookie.”

“I didn’t mean to” Sam cries into Bucky’s shirt, “I didn’t want hurt her! I didn’t- I was just-”

He crouches down and grabs her shoulders. “Hey, why don’t we show them what we’ve been working on.”

Sam nods with a sniffle, and Bucky wipes the tears from her cheeks. He stands up, taking her hand as they walk into the dining room.

Peggy lays her head back against the armrest, wincing as she lowers her shirt. “I don’ like this, Steve. She didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“That’s the problem. What happens when she does want to hurt someone? When those playground bullies become too much?” He raises his eyebrows, then pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t like it either, but she needs to know her actions have consequences, and they can be severe.”

“I suppose we don’t have much choice.” She lifts her head when Sam comes back in, carrying the cactus in a brand new, freshly painted pot.

“I tried to make it pretty for you.” Sam holds the planter out to Peggy. “We cleaned the floor too.”

Peggy takes the cactus, smiling. “It’s lovely.”

Sam beams up at her, delicately climbing onto her lap. She curls into Peggy’s right side, and Peggy wraps an arm around her.

Bucky nods to Steve and Peggy. “I’m gonna let you guys talk.”

Peggy turns the planter to examine the whole thing. “I take it this is how you got so messy.” She giggles, tapping the purple paint smudge on Sam’s nose.

Sam glances at her paint-covered hands before shoving them behind her back.

Peggy bends with a quiet whimper to kiss Sam’s forehead. “I love it.”

Seemingly content, Sam lays her head on Peggy’s chest and nestles in as close as she can. “Do you still love me?”

Peggy throws a pointed look at Steve, pulling Sam in closer despite the screaming in her ribs. “Oh, darling, there is nothing you could ever do to make us stop loving you.”

Sam looks up at Peggy. “But I hurt you really bad.”

“Not for the first time, either,” Peggy laughs, “You constantly pulled my hair as a baby. Hard.”

“That’s right.” Steve lays a comforting hand on Sam’s head, crouching beside the couch. “And you caused a few problems before you were even born.”

Sam looks between their faces. Smiling, eyes bright, muscles relaxed. She cracks a smile. “When I was in Mommy’s tummy?”

Peggy nods. “Although, this is the first time you’ve broken a rib from the outside.”

“She didn’t break your rib, Peg,” Steve laughs, “She just bruised it pretty bad.”

“It still hurt.” She turns to Sam. “And we still love you.”

Steve kisses the top of Sam’s head. “Always.”


	8. ...And a Mother-in-Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy's mother comes for a visit and has a few things to say about Sam's upbringing.  
Also, possibly the most adorable scene I've ever written, featuring seven-year-old Sam and Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took me a couple weeks to put together. It was a lot of fun to write, so I'm really interested in your thoughts.  
If you need cheering up, this is a good one!

Steve waits patiently with the group of moms outside the front office. When he sees Sam making her way down the hall, he grins widely remembering how just last year her backpack was as big as she was. Now, at seven years old, she’s almost as big as a ten-year-old.

When Sam sees him, she breaks into a sprint. “Daddy!”

Her teacher tries to hold her back, but Sam easily breaks away. She crosses the length of the hallway in seconds, jumping into Steve's open arms. “How was school, baby?”

She shrugs. “There were some mean boys on the playground today.”

“Did you teach them a lesson?”

Sam smiles sheepishly.

As Steve turns to leave, Sam's teacher approaches. “Samantha, we talked about this. There's no running in the halls.”

Sam buries her face in Steve's shoulder. “But my daddy was here.”

Her teacher gives Steve a harsh look. “And you, Mr. Rogers, how do you expect me to teach your daughter good citizenship when you consistently encourage this playground justice?”

Steve smiles gently, “Well, Mrs. Davis, the moment you stop the fourth and fifth grade boys from picking on the first graders, I'll gladly tell her to leave them alone.”

“Mr. Rogers, I’m sure you understand boys will be-”

“Given standards and rules to live by? Because how else can we raise good citizens?”

With that, he turns and carries Sam out the door. When they get outside, he sets her down. “Want me to carry your backpack?”

She shakes her head, looping her thumbs under the straps. “I can carry it.”

“I know you _can_.” He chuckles, taking one of her hands while they cross the parking lot. “I just kind of miss helping you.”

“Do I have to go with you to pick up grandma tonight?”

“No, Uncle Bucky agreed to stay home with you.”

Sam beams up at him as he opens her door. She climbs into her seat, fidgeting with her fingers as she waits for Steve to get in.

When Steve settles in behind the steering wheel, Sam looks up from the backseat. “Daddy, what’s a hooker?”

Steve clears his throat, turning pink. “Well, honey…it’s a…a, um…another name for a fisherman.”

“Oh, okay,” she replies doubtfully. She knows he’s hiding something, but decides to let it go when Steve turns on the radio.

Sam retrieves a roll of yarn and a pair of knitting needles from under her bed and sits on the couch beside Bucky.

“You’re telling me you didn’t want to go to the airport with your parents because you wanted to knit?” He chuckles.

Sam rolls her eyes. “Grandma’s coming in.”

“I see.” He nods. “And you want her to think you’ve been practicing?”

Sam shrugs. “I might as well get the hang of it before she gets here.”

“Well, how about a snack?” He stands up with a grunt and walks into the kitchen.

“Uncle Bucky,” she yells from her seat, “what’s a hooker?”

Bucky snickers in the kitchen. “Let me guess. You already asked your dad.”

“He said it’s a fishing person, but I don’t believe him.”

Bucky laughs, walking back in. “Where did you even hear that?”

“The big kids at school.”

He shakes his head. “Well, kid, a hooker is someone grown-ups pay to love them.”

Sam looks at him, eyes narrow. “Mommy says you can’t buy love.”

“You can if you pay by the hour.” He chuckles to himself.

Sam stares at him a moment longer, then shrugs and resumes her knitting.

“You sure you wouldn’t rather play tag or climb a tree? It might be a while before you get another chance.” He teases.

Sam laughs, but makes no indication of getting up. Bucky walks across the room and tosses her knitting supplies aside. “Come on. Your mom and I worked really hard on that treehouse”

“I need to practice!”

He picks Sam up and throws her over his shoulder. “Not on my watch.” He sets her down in the backyard, taps her shoulder and takes off running. “Tag, you’re it.”

“No fair!” Sam sprints after him.

When Steve, Peggy and Amanda return, the living room furniture has been completely rearranged. Everything is stacked in the far end, separating the living and dining rooms. The couch is turned backwards, so it’s facing the back door. The coffee table is slid snugly beside it with the side table upside down on top of it. Sam and Bucky are nowhere to be seen. The only way through is over.

Peggy laughs as Steve ventures in. “A fort?”

Steve shakes his head. “A barricade.”

“She’s seven. Why on earth would she be building a-”

Just as they approach the makeshift wall, Sam and Bucky jump out from behind the couch. Sam immediately launches herself over the couch with a yell, tackling Peggy. Bucky drops to the ground, sweeping a leg under Steve. Steve hits the ground with groan, already wrestling to get the advantage over Bucky.

While Steve and Bucky struggle with each other, Sam sits triumphantly on Peggy’s stomach. Peggy easily rolls over sending Sam toppling to the floor. Peggy crawls to the couch and, reaching over the back, arms herself with a throw pillow. Sam yelps as Peggy swats her in the side with the pillow. Sam ducks under the coffee table and emerges with Steve’s shield.

“Oh, you want to play hard ball?” Peggy laughs at the sight of Sam ducking behind the shield.

Steve turns his attention briefly to the girls. It’s enough for Bucky to gain the upper hand. In seconds, Steve is struggling to escape a headlock.

Sam blocks all of Peggy’s attacks. Peggy grabs a second pillow. Double armed, she moves too quickly for Sam to react. Soon, Peggy has the shield in one hand and Sam pinned the floor with the other.

“I propose a trade.” Peggy smiles at Bucky.

He sighs, letting Steve go. “Yeah, alright. You win.”

Peggy helps Sam up, and Bucky glares at her playfully. “Come on, kid. You had the easy one!”

Steve takes the shield from Peggy with a huff. “You know, Buck, there’s a reason we keep this out of her reach.”

“Is it so she likes me more?” He grins.

A humorless voice cuts through the quiet chuckles. “Certainly it’s because young ladies shouldn’t be wrestling on the living room floor.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. Peggy tosses the pillows back onto the couch and sends Sam to take a shower.

“Let’s get you settled in, Amanda. You remember where Sam’s room is.” Steve steps out of the way to let Peggy’s mother pass before following with her luggage.

“Samantha, your stitches are off.” Amanda states leaning over Sam’s shoulder. “What pattern are you following?”

“Oh, you want stitches?” Sam mutters under her breath.

“Hm? You have to speak up, love. My hearing’s not what it used to be.”

“I said, I don’t know, Grandma. I don’t understand this at all.”

“I know, dearie. This would be much easier for you if your mother would practice stitches with you.”

“I’ll give you sti- Ow! Damn it.” Sam wipes at the blood oozing out of her palm where she jabbed herself with a knitting needle.

“Samantha!” Amanda gasps, “Your mother has been far too lax with you.”

“Can we just do something else?” Sam stares across the couch at Amanda, dropping her yarn and needles to the floor.

“Of course, love. Why don’t we try crochet? No needles.”

Sam groans as Amanda passes her a crocheting hook.

Twenty minutes later, Amanda is standing over Sam untangling her from the yarn like a kitten.

“Samantha, I just don’t understand how you managed this.”

“If I knew, Grandma, I would tell you.”

“All you had to do was sit still.” Amanda huffs as Sam lifts an arm for her to unwind the yarn. “You act like a child.”

“I am a child,” Sam whines.

“You are a young lady. Despite my best efforts, your mother retained none of her proper training. Someone has to pass it on to you.”

“But why? I don’t need to know how to sew. We can just buy those things now.” Sam shakes the remaining yarn off her left hand.

“What about when you have a baby, Samantha? You need to be able to make a blanket for her.”

“I’ll buy one.”

“You can’t buy love, dearie." Amanda pulls the last string from Sam’s hair.

“You can if you pay by the hour.” Sam replies nonchalantly.

Amanda’s mouth drops open, eyes wide. She begins to speak several times, but nothing comes out.

“Grandma? Are you alright?”

The front door opening draws their attention. Steve walks in first, followed by Peggy. Bucky trails behind them.

“Margaret! What have you been teaching this girl?”

Peggy looks at Steve and then to Amanda, “I teach her many things, mother. What specifically would you like to know?”

“She just informed me that one can buy love by the hour.” She raises an eyebrow at Peggy.

Bucky, who had just made it through the door, immediately turns around to leave.

“Oh, no.” Peggy grabs his elbow and points at Sam. “Kitchen. Now.”

Steve and Sam sit at the kitchen table. Peggy pushes Bucky in that direction. “Mother, would you please give us a moment.”

Amanda walks into Sam’s room without protest. Peggy joins the others in the kitchen, glaring at Bucky.

Steve leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “Buck, tell me you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.” He holds his hands up in defense.

“I don’t believe you.” Steve narrows his eyes.

“Then why even ask?” Bucky crosses his arms.

Peggy squats down in front of Sam. “What exactly did you say to grandma?”

Sam thinks. “She said you can’t buy love, so I told her you can if you pay by the hour.”

All three adults suppress chuckles.

“And where did you hear that, love?”

Sam’s eyes dart to Bucky for only a second, then she shrugs. “School.”

Bucky chuckles. “Told you.” He winks at Sam with a smile.

Peggy gestures between Bucky and Sam. “Oh, I do not like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one I'm working on is about Sam learning how strong she is. It'll take place before this story, so may end up being Chapter 1 or 2. Just keep an eye on it


	9. ...And Unexpected Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Tony find something VERY interesting (and kind of creepy) in Howard's lab. A great deal of explanations follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure exactly when this fits in the universe, but I'm picturing Sam being 13 or 14 at this point in time.  
A short read, full of fun with a hint of creepy/weird. Somewhat appropriate for Halloween.

“Sam, come on,” Tony begs from the doorway. “You know my dad doesn’t like people being in his lab.”

Sam picks up a small object to examine. “Then he shouldn’t keep all the cool toys in here.”

He runs into the room and snatches the object from her. “And definitely don’t touch that.” He sets it down delicately.

Sam smiles at the way his fingers brushed hers. “What? You’re the only one allowed to blow us up?”

“Are you ever going to let that go?” He throws his hands in the air.

“Nuh uh.” Sam shakes her head, investigating other items in the workshop. “We've both been gone all summer. You're not the least bit curious what your dad came up with?”

He grabs her wrist before she can touch anything else. “We're leaving.”

She glances at his hand and smirks. “Make me.”

“You know I can't,” he sighs, releasing her.

“Then, I guess we're staying.” She wanders to a worktable across the room. 

Tony follows her, squaring his shoulders. “Samantha Michelle Rogers.”

She turns around, startled by how close he is.

He stands up taller, advancing toward her until she backs into the work bench. Her breath catches when he continues moving forward, invading her space.

“I said we're leaving.”

Sam's eyes are set on his lips. If she were more like her mother, she'd kiss him right then. Unfortunately, she inherited her flirting skills from Steve. She brings her eyes up to meet his, dropping her shoulders. “Fine.”

Tony backs away, allowing Sam to stand up straight again. As Tony turns to lead her out, blinking lights catch her eye. It's the lock for the room in the corner indicating the door was left open. Sam immediately turns to investigate. That door has been locked longer than Sam can remember.

Tony, sensing her movement away from him, spins around. “Sam, let’s go.”

She waves him off. “Just a minute.”

He chases after her. “Sam, come-”

She taps the door and grins at Tony when it swings open. “You can't tell me you don't want to know.”

Tony groans, “Five minutes.”

They enter together, equally amazed. The room is dimly lit. There are monitors covering every inch of the walls and a large pod-like tank in the center. There are countless wires attached to the tank, leading to various monitors around the room.

“What is your dad working on?” Sam’s eyes are wide as she wanders toward the pod.

“I don't know.” Tony gapes at the monitors. “But whatever it is, it's alive.”

Sam glances up. “How can you tell?”

Tony points to a line on a screen with barely noticeable peaks. “Barely alive, but still.”

Sam nods laying a hand on the tank and shivers. “Tony, I think it's frozen.”

As Tony approaches, she rubs the frost from the viewing window at the top of the tank. As the fog clears, Steve's face comes into focus.

Sam shrieks backing away.

“Holy fuck!” Tony jumps back, scrambling for the door.

“What the hell is your dad doing?” Sam screams running through the lab.

“My dad? What about your dad?” Tony yells, hot on her heels.

They clamber over each other trying to get up the stairs.

“Daddy!” Sam lets out earsplitting shrieks. “Daddy! Help!”

Tony shoves Sam to the side, sliding past her. “Dad! What the hell is that?”

They nearly collide with Steve at the top of the stairs. Howard, Peggy, and Jarvis aren’t far behind.

Steve grabs Sam by the shoulders, looking her over. “Baby, what's wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Anthony, what is the meaning behind this commotion?” Jarvis and the others hurry over.

Sam and Tony yell over each other, stumbling through their own jumbled thoughts. “You were- there’s a- it’s not- in the tank- Mr. Stark is- how did- we didn’t- frozen- it’s alive- and how in the hell-”

Peggy cuts them off with a wave of her hand. “Did you two go into Howard's secured workspace?”

Sam nods, expression blank.

“Shit.” Steve breathes out.

Howard and Jarvis exchange worried looks.

Peggy pinches the bridge of her nose. “Have a seat.”

They all move into the dining room. Sam, Tony, and Peggy sit at the table. Steve leans against the doorway. Howard pours a glass of scotch. Jarvis stands in the corner.

Peggy looks at Steve expectantly.

“Oh, sure, you do all the talking for twenty years, but _now_ it’s my turn.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m not…from here…” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. “After I crashed that plane in 1945, Howard never found me.”

“Wha-?” Sam shuts her eyes, shaking her head. “Obviously he did.”

Howard shakes his head. “Steve found me.”

“The wreckage wasn’t found until 2011.”

Tony glances at Sam. “It’s only 19-”

“I know. Quit interrupting.” Steve gives them both a harsh glare. “I spent twelve years working with SHIELD. Saving the world from aliens, robots, Nazis…again. I’ve met gods, seen magic, and travelled across the galaxy.” He takes a breath. “When a mad Titan wiped out half of all life in the universe, it took five years to figure out how to fix it.”

“I’m sorry.” Sam jumps in, “How did-”

A pointed look from Peggy silences her.

Steve chuckles, “We, uh…we invented time travel.” Steve takes a moment to enjoy the look on Tony’s face.

Sam’s eyes narrow as she looks around the room. “This is a joke, right? Some kind of prank.” She looks at Peggy. “Is this you trying to tell me Dad’s lost it?”

Tony opens his mouth to speak several times before getting words out. “So, then, what happened to the future? You had friends, right? If you stayed here, what happens to them?”

“We can’t be sure, but the theory is nothing.” Steve shrugs. “When you leave the present, it becomes your past. When you arrive in the past, it becomes your present. You can’t alter your past through actions in the present.”

Sam looks at Peggy, who raises her eyebrows and shakes her head.

“So, do you know what happens in 2011?” Tony presses on.

“I know what happened in my past. I have no way of knowing if that will happen in this future.” Seeing the confusion on Tony’s face, Steve adds, “Everything before 1945 is exactly the same. My choice to stay here, created a branch in the timeline. Both worlds exist at the same time.”

“Like a multiverse.” Tony’s voice drips with awe.

“Exactly.” Howard slams his drink on the counter.

Sam looks up. “Then, what happened to Mom and Uncle Bucky? And Mr. and Mrs. Stark? And-”

Steve tenses. “Most everyone we know was dead when I came back. Coincidentally, Buck was also frozen in time.” He glances at Peggy. “Mom was ninety. She had married and had children, lived a normal life.”

“So,” Sam answers slowly, “I have half-siblings?”

Peggy’s gaze snaps from Steve to Sam and back to Steve.

“Well, no,” Steve starts, “you-”

Tony looks at Steve, “If the timelines coexist, it would be the same genetic material.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Peggy raises her voice. “I’m her mother, and I didn’t-”

“Well, not this you, no" Howard cuts her off, “but Tony’s correct. Sam shares half her genetic makeup with the other you as well. Therefore, she is a half-sister.”

“No, that’s not how it works,” Steve yells, standing up straight. “I’m the only who has actually time-travelled, so I-”

“You’re also the only one here who has taken the serum.” Jarvis takes a step toward the center of the room. “That doesn’t mean you know the first thing about it.”

“So, you’re on their side?” Steve growls.

“I merely mean to point out that we don’t know enough to count it out.”

“I carried her for eight months." Peggy’s face is burning red. “I’m the only one in any universe to suffer through that hellish pregnancy. _No one_ gets to claim my daughter.”

Steve snorts, but doesn’t dare oppose her openly.

“That’s hard to argue with,” Jarvis concedes.

“No one is giving her away.” Howard steps back in. “That doesn’t change-”

“Enough.” Sam looks each of them in the eye. “Why is Dad 2.0 frozen in Mr. Stark’s basement?”

“Right.” Steve clears his throat. “That’s the Steve Rogers who belongs here.”

Sam rolls her eyes. “Yes, I made that leap on my own. But why-”

“We couldn’t leave him in the ice. Someone could stumble onto the wreckage. God forbid, Hydra found him.” Steve leans back against the doorway. “This is the safest option. At least we’ll know if someone comes looking.”

Sam groans, rubbing her head. “Can we just go home? My head hurts.”

Sam sits quietly while Steve and Peggy say their goodbyes. She doesn’t speak again until they’re well on their way home.

“I don’t understand.” Sam shakes her head slowly. “Didn’t Mom spend like two weeks looking for the wreck?”

“Yes, she did,” Peggy spits out. “Dad decided to wait to tell me he was alive.”

Unfazed, Sam continues, “So, how did you find it so easily?”

“It wasn’t easy.” Steve glances at her in the mirror. “I knew the coordinates where SHIELD found me in 2011. When the wreckage wasn’t there, we had to go through weather patterns over decades and try to figure out where it was.”

“So,” Sam rubs her temples, “you’re just going to keep him frozen?”

Peggy looks at Steve uneasily. “If he were less recognizable, we could thaw him out. But if a second Captain America suddenly shows up, people will have questions.”

Sam agrees sullenly. “It just doesn't seem fair.”

“Well, love,” Peggy’s voice is soft and sweet, “sometimes we have to make hard decisions. Ones that aren’t always fair. To protect people.”

Sam sits silently for the rest of the ride home. She bites absently at the inside of her cheeks. They were right, obviously. The world wasn’t ready to know about time travel. Hell, she wasn’t ready for time travel. But it still doesn’t seem right.

Her dad just wanted to live the life that he was robbed of. It isn’t fair to ask him to give that up. But this Steve Rogers had been found. He could have had that life. If it were her, and she ever found out someone took her life from her, she’d be pissed.

Sam shakes her head. It’s not her decision to make. Certainly, Steve and Peggy are doing the right thing. They’ve been handling strange situations for decades.

Steve runs down the hall. Sam screams again just before he throws her door open. Something cool brushes his face, followed by a dull thud in the wall. His cheek starts burning as he reaches up to dab at the blood trickling down his face. He pulls the knife from the wall, looking at Sam sitting straight up in her bed.

He turns the weapon over in his hands, walking across the room. “Where’d you get a throwing knife?”

“Uncle Bucky.” She reaches out, waiting for Steve to give it back.

“He taught you to throw them, too?”

Sam nods, sliding the knife back under her pillow.

“Why do you keep it there?” Steve tilts his head to the side, his eyes full of concern.

“In case someone attacks me in my sleep.” She shrugs.

He chuckles, “Who’s going to get past me and Mom?”

She looks away, massaging one of her palms. “Ice zombie you?”

Steve groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. When he opens his eyes, Sam is curled tight against her knees, biting her lip.

“Come on. We need a drink.”

She looks at him, one eyebrow quirked up. “But I’m only-”

“Special occasion.” He walks out of the room, waving for her to follow.

Peggy, woken by Sam’s relentless giggling, stalks down the hall and into the kitchen. Sam is nearly in tears. Steve is rubbing his temples. Neither notice Peggy walk in.

“You used lines from Shakespeare to pick up women?” Sam cackles.

“No,” Steve groans, “I tried.”

Sam wipes at her cheeks. “Maybe you should have gone with Dr. Seuss!”

“Maybe.” Steve cracks a smile, “I mean, they were seventy years younger than me.” He sits back in his chair, grinning, and takes a drink of his beer. “I lost a bet with Tony once. He- my Tony- that To- the other Tony. He made me ask a cute blonde for help crossing the street.”

Sam laughs into her beer, snorting it out her nose with a groan. “You didn’t.”

Peggy saunters in. “Oh, I have a feeling he did.”

Steve sets his beer on the table and pulls Peggy down onto his knee. “Got a coffee date out of it too.”

Peggy turns to Steve, whispering, “What’s going on here, darling?”

“I let her have drink hoping it would calm her down and she could go back to sleep.” Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Now, I’m just trying to get her to pass out.”

“Ice zombies?”

Steve nods, taking a drink. “Ice zombies.”

“Judging from her giddy grin, I’d say she’s pretty close.”

“Yep.” Steve picks another beer off the floor, opens it, and passes it to Sam. “Keep drinking.”

“Well, at least give her some water before bed.” Peggy heaves a sigh. “I’d really prefer not having to explain to the caseworker why she’s hungover at school tomorrow.”

“That’s easy.” Steve snorts. “The frozen man in the basement gave her nightmares.”

Peggy groans standing up. “Maybe she should take a day off.” 

Sam perks up. “I’m with Mom. It’s too risky.”

Peggy stares daggers through Sam. “This is not going to become a thing.” She kisses Steve on the cheek before heading back to bed.

Less than an hour later, Sam goes to the bathroom and never comes back. Steve finds her curled up asleep on the rug. He lets out a laugh before scooping her up and carrying her to bed. He tucks her in with a yawn and kisses her forehead before climbing into his own bed. He snuggles against Peggy's back, careful not to wake her. A quiet hum of approval is her only response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully that answers some of your questions about this timeline. I know "what about THAT Steve" is a question almost everybody had after Endgame. So, here you go, my most logical answer.  
Full disclosure: I have no plans to ever discuss "ice zombie Steve" again, in my one-shots or in the main story line. Unless this story is just a huge hit and everyone wants to know more about what happens to this timeline's Steve Rogers. Then I'll work it in.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm constantly updating these, so please leave comments, suggestions, and questions! Answering questions has resulted in some of my best ideas :)


End file.
